Harm Done To Child
by Phouka Dragon11
Summary: Night 5. The animatronics are agitated. Mike Schmidt is ready. Or so he thinks. Now he not only has to protect himself, but also a little kid that hid in the nightguard's office...
1. 00:00

"Jeremy Fitzgerald. Age twenty. It says in your CV that you have done many things of a worthwhile note. You've graduated collage with honours, and have an above average IQ. Why are you applying for a job as a nightguard at a pizza place? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I would just like this job, please. It would mean a lot to me."

"Why? Do you have a history with Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, you are more competent than the other blokes I've interviewed today, and you do have a better CV than all of them. You've done more things, you've been to more schools, you're just generally better. But you do know the risks, do you not? Although we don't like to speak about it, a nightguard died in this position once. You do know that right?"

"Yes. I know that."

"Well then, Mr. Fitzgerald. You're hired."

* * *

Another night, another shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Today was Friday, last day of the working week. Thank goodness for that! The weekend was just six hours away, and coincidentally it would mean six hours of defending against murderous animatronics for children. It was not the ideal job, and Mike would like to find himself a better paid job as soon as it came up. But he guessed that having a job was slightly better than living under a bridge addicted to drugs, so he shouldn't be complaining.

Mike Schmidt was just a regular bloke trying to do his job, but his irritation grew at Fazbear's Entertainment and at their dishonesty about a job as simple as a nightguard at a Chuck-e-Cheese rip-off. The job description said nothing about murderous animatronics that tried to murder you by stuffing you into a suit! Though... Mike had various doubts about that theory which the Phone Guy proposed to him over the phone.

"You look like a naked endoskeleton," said the guy on the other end of the line. "That's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's, so they'll try to shove you into a suit."

But Mike saw with his very own eyes that the animatronics ignored an actual endoskeleton in the parts and repair closet. Those furry beings were actually out for human blood. His blood.

So Mike started up with his routine; checking the cameras. The fox's curtains were still closed, thankfully, so he didn't have to worry about him too much as for now. Next he checked on the three on the stage. Still they haven't moved. That was strange, not that Mike was complaining.

He remembered how the previous night had gone, how chaotic it had been. Mike had just escaped with his life, and had to lay down in a darkened room for a while afterwards. He just hoped that he would get to keep his life. It wasn't much, but it was still worth more than any paycheck, at least according to Mike.

He checked the cameras again, and the animatronics had still not moved. Things were going well. Too well. So Mike checked all the places, doing his actual job of making sure nobody was inside the building aside himself and the animatronics for once. Maybe the four furry monsters decided to give him a little break for once?

Mike yawned loudly, gazing up at his clock. Only ten minutes have passed. Heh, not too bad. He could do this if things carried on like this. All he had to do was wait.

But the pleasant silence of nothing didn't last long. It never did in this place. Mike, who had closed his eyes to relax a bit, snapped open his eyes once more at the sound of a quiet cough. A child cough.

His heart gave a jolt as he quickly grabbed the tablet to look over the Pizzeria. He had heard those animatronics sing, laugh and breathe using child voices, ones they had possibly learned to mimic thanks to all the time spent entertaining kids. His breathing became more frantic, but to his dismay he found that neither of the killer robots had moved. Maybe his cameras had faltered?

Instantly Mike left his screen aside and jumped up to press the buttons to shed some light on the dark blind spots just outside his doors. But strangely there was nobody there.

Was Mike hallucinating? Oh dear, it was bad if he was hallucinating while defending himself against murderous animatronics. It was bad if he was hallucinating in the first place!

The little voice coughed again, and Mike gasped and looked around, eyes widened and ears poised to listen for any little sounds. Adrenalin was pumped through his veins as he stood to his feet to at least protect himself from certain animatronic doom.

A few breath-taking moments passed, and once again the voice coughed. This time though, Mike was alert and could pinpoint where exactly the coughing was coming from.

Under his desk.

Gulping down his saliva, Mike shook on his feet and carefully lowered himself to a squat to look under his desk. Though what he found there was shocking, but not scary in a way that the animatronics were. This was a different kind of scary.

There was a little boy hiding under his desk.

Mike stared dumbfounded at the little kid, wide-eyed and frozen. How did he get here? The little kid was about seven years old, with ragged blond hair around his little head and big blue eyes, cold and staring. He seemed equally as surprised that he had been found.

"What are you doing here kid?" Mike blurted out at him, unable to contain his shock. "How the heck did you get in here?"

The boy coughed again before he replied in his high-pitched pre-puberty voice.

"I wanted to stay with Foxy for the night, so I stayed!" the little boy replied cheerfully. "It's okay with you, Mr. Nightguard, is it?"

Mike sucked air through his teeth and bit his lower lip. He didn't want to tell this kid that his favourite red fox turned into a bloodthirsty monster, but then again it wasn't fine by him. It was only a matter of time before the animatronics turned to nightmares, and he couldn't have a kid by his side!

"Where's your family kid?" Mike asked instead. Perhaps he could call them to tell them that their son had stayed at Freddy Fazbear's. They must be worried sick!

"Oh! I have fourteen siblings!" the little boy explained happily, not realising the seriousness of the situation. "I'll be back before they know I'm missing!"

Once again Mike wasn't sure. "Do you know your parent's phone numbers?"

The boy shook his head.

Oh great. Mike pinched his brow and sighed. It wouldn't've worked anyway. It was far to dangerous for this kid to leave in the middle of the night, when the animatronics were just waiting to detect movement. Why, why, why must all the worst things happen to him? First, a minimum-wage job that turned out to be a survival game against four killing-machines, and now he had to babysit a little kid while doing so? Oh boy they better pay him better for this.

"Get out of there kid," Mike sighed lowly, stepping back to give the kid some room to come out of his hiding place. The little kid crawled out from under the desk, still bouncing on his toes. Mike didn't know what the boy was so happy about. He didn't know what he would do if he was left behind by his family in a cheap pizza place overnight. Probably curling up somewhere where nobody could get at him. Or at least trying to get out of there, like any sane kid would. But not this boy.

"So, when can I meet Foxy?" asked the boy, but didn't get the reply he was hoping for.

"Next time you come here during the day," said Mike coldly. "If you leave this place at all."

The boy stared at him like a dog stared at a high-pitched noise. "What? But he's here, isn't he?"

Mike wanted to bark at the kid that the animatronics wanted his head, but kept himself back. This was a little kid, and childhood was not to be tampered with. So instead he tried to be as gentle as he possibly could. "Of course he's here, but he's out of order right now. Right now, you've got to stay with me."

The boy looked as if Chrismas had been cancelled. "Why can't I see Foxy!? He'll be happy to see me!"

Mike wanted to slap himself in the forehead at the boy's ignorance. "Right now Foxy doesn't want to see anyone. For now you've got to stay in here and stay really, really quiet."

The boy shut his mouth, disappointed. Mike sighed and grabbed his tablet to check on the animatronics. Foxy's closet was still closed, but the animatronics had turned their heads to stare into his soul. Boy they were agitated.

If a kid was with him, it was not good. It was bad enough that Mike had to fight for his own skin, and now he had to save a little kid as well? Would the murderous animatronics touch a little child? He didn't know, but what he did know of the robots round the halls that they attacked. There was double pressure on him now. Juuuuusst perfect.

For a while the little child was silent as Mike pretended to be super-engaged in his job, though secretly having a major panic attack inside. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the kid heading out into the darkness of one of the doors. His heart leapt.

"Don't go out there!" he yelped, reaching out, quick as an adder, to grab the boy by the arm.

"Why?" the brat asked, taring his arm away from the nightguard, but he saw the absolute fear in Mike's eyes and he backed down. "Why?" he asked again.

Once again Mike sighed a heavy sigh. If this kid was gonna be stuck with him for the next six hours, he needed to be honest incase the robots decide to strike. "Listen kid, this place is haunted, I'm telling you. Those animatronics have been going at my throat for the whole week. They've been trying to kill me, and yesterday I nearly died here!"

The kid glared at him as if he were some sort of lunatic. There was doubt in his big blue eyes, and Mike could clearly read his thoughts through his face.

 _This man is crazy._

"You don't have to take my word for it," Mike growled lowly, fixing his nightguard cap on his head. "If you want to get mauled by your favourite cuddly creatures, it's your problem. But not on my watch. You're to stay here in this room until six am, got it kid?"

"You're mentally unstable," said the kid. "Why can't I see Foxy?"

This kid. He had the audacity to tell his elder that he was mentally unstable when he didn't even know what he was going through. All he cared about was some stupid cartoon character. Thank god Mike didn't have kids of his own, he didn't know how he would last.

"Fine!" Mike barked and picked up his tablet. "If you want to see your fox so badly, then here he is!"

He switched the camera to Pirate Cove and showed it to the brat. The kid looked expectantly at the tablet, then his face fell.

"Foxy isn't there!" he exclaimed sadly.

That sentence made Mike's heart stop beating. Next thing Mike heard was running footsteps. Those footsteps.

The action came automatically. Over the previous four nights Mike had developed extremely quick reflexes, which was unbelievably handy in situations like this. He thrust the tablet into the boy's hands and leapt towards the door, arm outstretched towards the button.

The shape of Foxy appeared in the doorway, hook and claws and teeth glistening in the dim overhead lights. The animatronic's cold, dead eyes flared with unknown rage as it made a desperate jump towards them. A loud, high-pitched scream emerged from its throat, a horrible alien sound that promised death and blood and every horrible thing. But Mike was faster. His fist slammed the button and the metal door came crashing down, blocking off the threat's way.

Mike flinched when he heard Foxy ram into the door, proceeding to knock on the door with all its might and causing to make a few more minor dents in the metal. Then silence.

He waited a few moments before he shined the light, and the shadow of the Foxy animatronic could be seen trudging back to Pirate Cove, disappointed. So Mike reluctantly reopened the door and checked how much power he had left. 84%... Not that great...

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Mike sat down in his chair again, relieved that his heart was still beating and his soul hadn't left his body, although that was a big yet at this point. He breathed a huge sigh of relief, he let his neck rest for a moment. Oh boy.

He reached out for his tablet, only to find that it was not there. Then he remembered what he'd done with it.

"May I get the screen kid?" Mike asked, outstretching his hand. The kid was shocked, shaking in his tiny shoes, but handed Mike the tablet anyway. The nightguard had to admit that he felt sorry for the little kid, but he couldn't worry about that now. He had much more important things to do.

Foxy had returned to its place in Pirate Cove, dead eyes shining in the camera light as if it knew that Mike was looking back at it. At least it was stationary, for now. The same couldn't be said for the other animatronics. The bear and the rabbit were still standing still, jaws slightly unhinged to show off their killer teeth. The chicken was gone. Where was it?

The parts and repair closet, the dark chicken stood there as if looking for something. The animatronics never moved when he saw them on camera, the exception being Foxy's running. Did those robots know when he was looking through the cameras? They probably did. Those robots knew a lot of things.

"Was that-"

"Foxy? Sure was," Mike replied, slightly annoyed at the kid at his side. The boy was still shaking, stammering through chattering teeth. "Now do you believe me about them being dangerous?"

The boy nodded his head vigorously, those big blue eyes of his welling up with tears. Mike shook his head and turned to check on the animatronics again, though they had not moved.

"Am I ever gonna get home Mr. Nightguard?" the kid asked, taking a few rapid sobbing breaths. "Can I go home?"

Mike hesitated. "I can't promise you that kid. What I know is that these animatronics' free-roaming mode turns itself off at six am. It's safer if you stay with me until that time instead of risking getting your head bitten off trying to get out while they're active. Just try to stay quiet."

The little kid wiped his running nose on his sleeve and sat next to the spinning-chair on the floor. He muttered his agreement and apology and hugged his knees closely to himself. Most likely he was scarred for life and would never return to Freddy Fazbear's after this night, or at least would be haunted by reoccurring nightmares like Mike was.

For a couple of precious minutes Mike tracked the animatronics on camera, following the chicken's movements from place to place all while making sure none of the others moved. They were agitated, he could feel their anger tense in the air. He could almost smell their foul odour through the corridors.

Then the phone rang. Mike shivered, remembering how last time Phone Guy (he didn't know his name, so he started calling him Phone Guy for a cheap laugh) tried to talk he was brutally murdered by one of the animatronics. He did check in all the empty suits in the back room just as he'd asked, hoping to find the man trapped in one of the animal suits and to save what little was left of him, but to his surprise there was nothing in there. Phone Guy must've died then and there. Though Mike personally didn't know Phone Guy, and had never seen him with his very own eyes, he was hit with a pang of grief and fury. Those animatronics killed him. Those animatronics killed his guide.

So why was the phone ringing now?

Mike hesitated before he answered the call. And instantly wished he didn't.

What played back was not Phone Guy's nervous, stammering voice, offering him advice, guidance and information which would be greatly appreciated at this point.

No, what came out of the phone was at first static, then strings of deep, distorted voices that mumbled incoherent noises that sounded like they came from the darkest pits of hell. Whatever they were trying to say was punctuated by shrill shrieks that cut off and started up again in a way that humans could never imitate. The animatronics were talking to him through the recorded phone message.

Mike instantly hit mute call, and once again the office went silent. No sane words could describe his horror at the message the four robots had left for him, taunting him, sneering, as if they knew that killing that person on the phone had touched a nerve. Soon Mike's terror turned to sorrow, and he pressed the palm of his hand to his mouth, staring off into his mind.

"What was that Mr. Nightguard?" asked the kid, causing Mike to jump in his seat. He'd forgotten he was there. The kid looked absolutely terrified, and was looking for answers to ease his fears. But would the truth calm him down like the kid wanted him to?

At first Mike shook his head, not wanting to tell the kid what true horrors he'd endured at his time at Freddy Fazbear's. But there was something about the boy's gaze that worked as a truth-drug, an effect that dragged the truth out. So Mike told him. Everything.

"Is the same thing gonna happen to us?" asked the little boy, wide eyes full of tremor.

Mike bit his tongue and shrugged sadly, turning to check on the animatronics once more.

The two on stage hadn't moved at all, though their mouths were now gaping open so the dim lighting glistened off their sharp teeth. That fox had not moved either, though its neck was now bent at a right angle, its eyes still glistening threateningly at the camera.

But the chicken was nowhere in sight. Gah! Where was it? His question was about to be answered.

That awful breathing started to emerge from the right corridor. That breathing like someone was trying to cling onto the last threads of their life. Familiar breathing it was, for Mike had gotten quite used to hearing it whenever the rabbit or the chicken were near. Once again Mike had left his screen aside and turned to the rightmost door. The overhead light flickered, and the terrifying image of the dusty yellow Chica the Chicken brightened up, mouth agape and eyes staring. So Mike shut the door against it promptly. Thankfully Chica nor Bonnie required much to be shut out, since their programming seemed to be less complex, but they drained unnecessary power.

But another noise joined the creepy breathing from the other side of the door. The running footsteps of Foxy the fox. It was going for another attack.

Mike looked up at the other door in horror, knowing full well that he could not make it to the button on time. His whole life flashed before his eyes at that moment as he froze like a deer in headlights, watching as the terrifying creature emerged from the darkness again, the awful scream once again screeching in the ears.

This was the end.

Though apparently not. Before the monster could leap through the door, the metal once again slammed down, blocking off the threat. The animatronic knocked into the door, then proceeded to knock violently into it again, draining even more power.

For that moment Mike was confused on why he was still alive and not being dragged to the parts and repair closet by a huge animatronic arm. It took him a few moments to realise that the little kid had pressed the button, preventing the machine from leaping inside.

"I'm sorry Foxy," said the boy sadly, both hands tightly against the big red button. He looked towards the nightguard with panic, as if looking for gratification that he did the right thing.

Though Mike didn't want to admit it, he was grateful for the kid's quick actions. "Good job kid," he congratulated him dryly. "Though I need you to step away. These things take up power and if we run out, it won't be good."

The boy nodded obediently and took a step back from the door. Mike first checked his own door, to his dismay Chica was still standing there and staring at him with that awful, bloodcurdling expression. But fortunately Foxy had gave up on knocking on the door and went back to its home back at Pirate's Cove, ready to plan its next attack. So there was no need in the door being down anymore. So once again the door opened.

Boy this was going to be a long night.


	2. 01:05

It was very dark. The vents opened at each side and straight on was a hallway, dark as the deepest night and open like a hungry mouth. The office was a lot different than he'd expected, much bigger and with no doors. This new location had surely been remixed and switched the mechanics he was familiar with. Where were the doors to protect him?

Blue eyes looked around, and they set down onto the little glass figurines on his desk. He huffed a short laugh to himself, reminded of that story he had told him. Jeremy had to admit, he was a stunning storyteller, and Jeremy had gone on to tell his story to his fourteen sisters, who listened with the same anticipation as he had done. Glass Mountain, he had called it, though the original storyteller had gave it no name.

Then the phone rang. Oh? He used to have phone calls, and the Phone Guy, as he called him, had met his fate at the mechanical hands of the animatronics.

Jeremy sighed and answered the call, preparing himself for the call.

"Uh... hello? Hello, hello?"

Jeremy wanted to answer, but the voice cut across him.

"Um... welcome to your new summer job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..."

Wait. Summer job? It was November! Jeremy listened uneasily to the direction on the phone, realising that these were pre-recorded messages of some time ago. It was summer when... that happened.

Soon enough the voice broke off into silence, and Jeremy pressed his palm up to his forehead. He just had to make it through the nights until his goal was completed, then he could do something more valuable with his life instead of being a mere nightguard. He had visited the restaurants at every opportunity he could when he was a kid, yet it accomplished nothing. So he decided to get closer and now he had a job.

"Uh... hello?"

The blood in Jeremy's veins froze over. The voice... it was the same one he'd just heard from the recorded phone call... and the phone was no longer activated. The voice was coming from directly behind him.

Very slowly, bit by bit, Jeremy looked behind, and his heart stopped.

There was a black shadow standing beside him. A tall shadow of a bear animatronic who's darkness seemed to suck in all the dim light from around him and fuse them into two glowing, whited-out eyes and rectangular animatronic teeth.

What in the name of goodness was that thing?

Jeremy stared at it, frozen from head to toe, waiting for it to do something, anything. But after a while he realised that the shadow, though its face was blacker than coal and its eyes were whiter than a wedding dress, had a pitying look upon its face. The nightguard closed his eyes and reopened them to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, but this was very real.

"Those are my old phone calls..." said the shadow, an odd tic of longing in its voice as it looked at Jeremy. "I was waiting for someone to listen to them..."

A brick of realisation hit Jeremy across the face. "You're the Phone Guy!" he exclaimed at the shadow.

Its robotic ears perked up. "Phone Guy? Is that the nickname I've been given...? I quite suit it, actually... don't I?"

Jeremy didn't reply past his bewilderment.

"You're looking for him, aren't you?" asked Phone Guy. He snorted when Jeremy nodded his head hesitantly. "He doesn't want to be found, but I assure you, he is here."

Hope rose in Jeremy's chest.

"But kid," the bear's shadow reached out with a huge black paw, as if asking for a handshake. "Thank you for playing those tapes."

"Uhh... you're welcome?" Jeremy replied, hesitating before he reached out and shook the black creature's hand. It was cold and rough, as if touching ice.

Just as he did so, the black bear disappeared into darkness, the soul trapped inside finally being put to rest.

* * *

Mike looked up at the clock. Five past one. Oh great. Why couldn't time pass faster? It was as if the hours were getting longer and longer, requiring more minutes to be complete. The clock, it was definitely not moving. At least when Mike was looking at it.

As for the animatronics, they seemed to back down slightly once they realised that Mike had a kid with him. Perhaps the little boy had a good omen surrounding him, or activated the animatronics' programming of being gentle towards children.

Maybe it was a good thing that the boy was with him?

But Mike wouldn't put his vote on it.

"What does that do Mr. Nightguard? What does this do Mr. Nightguard? Do you like Foxy Mr. Nightguard? I like Foxy a lot! Well... now that he's trying to get us, maybe not so much... But hey! I know we can make it!"

That kid would not shut up. Mike would bark at him to stay quiet, but the kid's solution to that was to drop his voice into a stage whisper, which somehow was even worse than when he talked normally. Mike was so relieved that he did not have children of his own. That would've been an unnecessary waste of money and valuable time and blood pressure.

"Did you know that spiders have transparent blood?" said the boy, sitting down on the desk among the fast food packets Mike had brought in and forgot to throw away.

"Fascinating," said Mike half-heartedly, not interested at all. What he really was worried about was the power loss. It was only a little past one o'clock, and the power was already down to 68%. This was terrible news. If the power went out, they would die. No doubts about it.

"Yeah! It is!" squealed the boy excitedly. "That's why when you squash them there's no red at all! My fourteen sisters are all scared of spiders, so when they see one they ask me to get rid of it!"

Mike tried his best to shut out the kid's useless rambling, but his voice was so annoying that it was impossible to not hear. Would death by animatronic really be worse than having to sit six hours listening to that boy babble on about nothing? Mike actually considered walking out into the corridors with outstretched arms and begging the animatronics to kill him. Though that wasn't the best idea.

"And like they have so many eyes as well! It's so creepy! In Minecraft they glow red in the dark! Do you think there's gigantic spiders like in Minecraft in some of the hotter countries?"

"Kid, do me a favour and shut your mouth for at least five minutes," Mike sighed, exhausted by just listening to the little boy. "The animatronics are going to get us if you don't be quiet."

"They haven't gotten us yet-"

The boy didn't get to finish his objection. Mike had jumped up and closed the door against the rabbit, who had thought to sneak up on them from the left. Great, more power to be drained. He looked over to his power metre, and his soul dropped to the core of the earth. How was it already 45%? What was draining so much power?

"Kid, I don't think we'll survive," said Mike eventually. "The power's below half, and it's being eaten away by god knows what!"

"This fan?" said the boy helpfully, pointing to the fan which was clattering on the desk next to him. Mike stared at him dumbfounded, biting his own tongue to punish himself for not thinking of that first. How dumb was he? It was probably the fan that ate away at the power he clutched on as if it was the last pockets of air in the universe.

"Good idea kid," he coughed awkwardly, unplugging the wretched thing at once. The fan stopped blowing the unnecessary cold air at them, and surely, the power stopped draining. He waited for a moment, watching the metre with expectant eyes. For a while he watched it, and the number didn't lower once. So Mike closed the other door, still not taking his eyes off the power metre, all while the boy hummed a catchy yet unfamiliar song. The number once again didn't lower. Not one bit.

The feeling was indescribable. It was exactly like trying to walk on your hands for your entire life, then realising you could walk on your legs instead. Mike hated himself for not coming up with that solution earlier, which would've spared him a lot of panicked shifts and brushes with death, but then again, his job from now on would be one hundred times easier.

"Nice going kid," Mike congratulated the kid, for the second time feeling relieved that the annoying boy had hid in the nightguard's office. Then it occurred to him that without needing to check on the doors every three seconds, he would have to spend all his time with that kid and his unbearable voice. But at Mike's praise, the little boy glowed with pride and gave him a gap-toothed grin.

"See! Maybe I'll be a nightguard like you one day!"

Before Mike could stop himself, he chuckled at him and smiled genuinely back. "You wouldn't want to waste your life like I do. I was that silent kid at the back of the class that didn't get anything the teachers said."

"That's just like my younger sister!" said the little boy. "She doesn't say much and always gets less than half marks on homework!"

"I got more than half marks on my assignments!" Mike objected. He felt like he was trying to justify himself way too much, but the kid knew how to structure his words to get at people. "How old are you even?"

"Seven!" the boy said cheerfully. "You?"

Mike hesitated as he sat back down in his chair. "I'm twenty four," he replied. "Mike Schmidt. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand out for a handshake. The boy somehow smiled wider as he shook his hand.

"My name's Jeremy! Jeremy Fitzgerald!" the boy introduced himself happily. "It's nice to meet you too Mike!"

Mike felt sorry for anyone named Jeremy. The name sounded like 'germ-y'; who in their right mind would name their child after an insult? But strangely it fitted this oddball of a boy, so well that he might've been born with a name tag that said 'Jeremy'.

He jumped when one of the animatronics knocked into the door, presumably Foxy. Its frustration was a shrill shriek. Knock knock. Knock knock. Mike peered cautiously at the power meter. Still 45%. Getting rid of that fan was just like getting rid of a parasite you didn't know you had, and now life was so much easier.

"Now they're not gonna get us!" sung Jeremy happily, swinging his legs where he was sitting. "Never! We're completely safe!"

Mike wished he could share his confidence. But what would the animatronics try now? Perhaps they would try breaking down the doors to get to them? But if they could they would've done it already, wouldn't they? The uncertainty gnawed at Mike relentlessly, not letting him hold a single thought in his mind.

"Don't jinx it kid," said Mike, shaking his head. He emptied his lungs of all air, and inhaled again before looking back down at his screen. Surely, the animatronics were more agitated now that there was something separating them from their prey.

As if in reply, Jeremy yawned loudly, closing his eyes. He reopened them forcefully a moment later, though they were already sticky with sleep. Of course, a little kid couldn't stay up all night. It just wasn't healthy.

"You're tired?" Mike asked rhetorically, though he already knew the answer. His whole being seemed to lift. If the boy fell asleep, maybe he wouldn't have to put up with his useless rambling anymore?

"Mm-hm," said Jeremy in agreement, nodding his little head. "Can I go to sleep?"

"Sure." On the outside Mike pretended to be indifferent, though inside he was celebrating.

He watched as the boy lay down on the desk, shifting around to get himself comfortable and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his jumper and closed his staring blue eyes.

For a while there was silence. Mike let his tense shoulders drop in relief. Perhaps night five wouldn't be so bad as he'd thought it would be. The power wasn't dropping, the animatronics were shut out, the annoying boy was going to fall asleep. Everything was heading in the good direction for once.

"Mike?"

The boy's voice shattered the pleasant silence once more. Mike didn't even try to hide his displeasement as he reluctantly looked up from his camera at the boy. "What now?"

The boy was laying on his side, facing him with sleepy eyes, not yet closed however. He looked at him, as if searching for comfort. "Could you tell me a bedtime story?"

Mike's heart dropped to his shoes. This was exactly like having an irritating bratty son. Why should he act like a babysitter to him when it wasn't in his job description? "Do I have to?"

"Uh-huh. I can't go to sleep without a bedtime story."

Mike couldn't help but put his hand up to his brow. Of course there was a price to pay for a bit of silence. Nothing was free in this world, he should know that by now.

Did Mike know any bedtime stories? His mother never told him any, nevermind his father. It was just lights out and go to sleep ya little ass-wipe and that was it. He didn't go to some elder like they did in the tales, one that would tell tales that would be passed on through generations. Mike didn't know those sort of tales. The closest he'd ever gotten to fairytales was reading those dark, twisted tales of the Brothers Grimm, but those were too dark for a child like Jeremy.

"Fine," Mike gave in finally. He'd have to make up a story as he went along. Perhaps he could make a dark adult's story children-friendly, or start something completely from scratch? Avoid cursing, sexual themes and gore and he should be fine. Hopefully. "A long time ago in a kingdom, far, far away..."

He had no idea if that was how all bedtime stories started, but those were how the cliches said it was, so Mike went with it. At worst it would make this child think he was more of a lame incompetent than he already was. Oh well. He wouldn't have to put up with him anymore once they've gotten out of here.

"... there lived... uh... an old cottage-person? Yeah. This old cottage-person worked day and night in his fields, hardly ever stopping to rest... This cottage-person... had three sons. The oldest... was a snobby, vain brat who looked at himself as the smartest and prettiest in all of the kingdom. The middle son... was... very fat and lazy, and he would sit in a chair or in his bed all day without moving so much as a finger. The youngest son... uh... worked hard in the fields with his dad and... was kind to animals?"

It seemed stupid, but Jeremy seemed to be already hooked onto the abomination Mike was coming up with. But for as absurd and half-baked as it was, it seemed to have a calming effect on them both, as if Mike was telling the story from somewhere safe, like next to a fireplace, and not in a moment of peril, locked in the nightguard's office surrounded by murderous animatronics out for blood.

"One day the old father called to his three sons to his bedside... and um... he said; "soon my time will come to an end. I have something to ask of the three of you. Bury me beneath the great oak tree, and each night one of you is to stand vigil at my grave. First the eldest, then the middle, then the youngest." And with his final request, the father was no more."

"He died?" Jeremy gasped. Mike shuddered. Wrong move!

"He... went to a better place," he said quickly before continuing. "The father was buried underneath the great oak tree, just like he had asked. But when time came for the first son to vigil, he turned to his youngest brother. "I need my beauty sleep. You're small and you're dumb. Go stand vigil for me, will you brother dearest?" The youngest son thought it was unfair, but ultimately agreed. So he went out into the night to stand vigil at his father's grave."

"What does vigil mean?" asked Jeremy.

"When you stay awake at night to stand guard or to pray or something like that," Mike explained. "Anyway, the youngest was standing vigil, when he saw something come out of the great oak tree. A... strange... um... tree person! A tree person that looked exactly like his dead father. "Where is the eldest son?" asked the tree person, looking the youngest son up and down. The littlest boy told him the whole story, and the tree person shook his head. "Give him this present, will you?" Then, out from behind the great oak came... a silver horse! A magnificent beast it was! So, just as he was asked, the youngest son gave the silver horse to the oldest son."

"He should've kept it! The oldest son didn't earn it!" Jeremy interrupted, though closed his mouth when Mike shook his head.

"Of course the oldest son was pleased with his gift. He strutted around with the silver horse down to the village, and soon he was known as the guy with a silver horse. But soon it was time for the middle son to stand vigil at the great oak. But when the time came, he in turn said to the youngest son- "I'm so tired I can't stand vigil at the great oak. You're small and you're lazy. Go stand vigil for me, will you brother dearest?" Once again the son thought it was unfair, but he went to stand vigil anyway."

Mike paused for a moment, but Jeremy pushed him to speak on, so Mike continued.

"Once again the tree person came out of the tree, and he was surprised to see the youngest boy again. "Where is the middle son?" asked the tree person, looking the youngest son up and down. The littlest boy told him the whole story, and the tree person shook his head. "Give him this present, will you?" Just like the other night, out from behind the tree came a horse, but this time it was a horse of pure gold. A brilliant horse it was, with a neigh so loud it could shatter glass. So once again, just as he was asked, the youngest son gave the golden horse to the middle son."

"That's unfair!" Jeremy objected. "The middle son didn't stand vigil!" He seemed pleased when he used the new word.

"Don't interrupt," Mike told him. "The middle son was over the moon that he'd received such a gift, though the eldest was mighty jealous that he'd been given the golden one instead of him. But then the two brothers began to speak. "I can see a pattern here," said the oldest son to the middle son. "As the nights go on, the horses get better." The middle son didn't understand, but he nodded his head anyway. "The youngest brat will probably get like a diamond horse or something," the oldest brother continued. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'll take the diamond horse. You can have your golden horse. And the little brat can have the silver horse." It sounded like a plan."

Mike was suddenly interrupted by loud knocking on the left door. Probably Foxy had tried to get in again. He eyed the power meter, and sighed in relief when he saw that it had still not gone down.

"So time came for the youngest brother to stand vigil at last. His older brothers taunted him relentlessly for it, but the youngest brother went to stand vigil anyway. Then the tree person came out of the great oak again. "You must be the youngest brother," said the tree person. "Here is a gift from your father." And out from behind the tree came a completely ordinary horse the colour of snow."

Jeremy opened his mouth to object, but he held back his words.

""This is not an ordinary horse," said the tree person. "This horse will obey every wild command you give it, and it will be absolutely fine. Trust me." The youngest brother seemed uncertain, but he believed the tree person anyway."

Mike paused again, thinking about what he should say next. His eyes set onto the glass window. That's it!

"A few days later, terrible news spread across the kingdom," Mike continued. "The king's daughter had been kidnapped by the neighbouring kingdom and held prisoner at a very high mountain of glass! The king sent out word that anyone that rescued the princess would receive her hand in marriage. Of course many young men in the kingdom stood up to the challenge. They tried climbing the mountain with all their strength and their horses, but the mountain of glass could not be climbed. All efforts seemed fruitless. Until the youngest son decided to stand up to the challenge. He went to the glass mountain, where many people camped around to try again on multiple days. They pointed at him and laughed. "Look at that boy with his pathetic horse! We've seen better things!" they cried. "There was a boy with a golden horse that came here before! And don't forget about the handsome boy on the silver horse! They couldn't make it up to the mountain!" But the youngest son did not listen to them. He patted his horse's neck and stood in front of the mountain. He closed his eyes against the world and..."

He looked over to Jeremy for clarification that he was still awake and not bored to death, but the blonde boy had wide eyes and gave Mike his full attention, pushing him to continue with the story.

"He lifted his head and raised his voice for all the people around to hear: "I wish my horse could fly!" For a while nothing happened, and the people had begun to laugh, but then the horse neighed loudly, and reared up. Two, massive feathered wings sprouted from its back, and the horse shot into the sky! Up, up the horse flew, and up into the princess' prison, and the boy rescued her from the unusual prison in the sky. Everyone who had laughed at him did not say anything, just lowered their heads in ultimate respect. So the youngest son married the princess... and everyone lived happily ever after?"

It was a strange story, one that Mike made up as he went along. It was probably the worst story known to humankind, filled with so many underdeveloped bits and plot holes. But Mike had paid the ridiculous fee of one bedtime story, so he fell silent and checked the cameras once more.

"I haven't heard that story before," Jeremy finally said. "You're a good storyteller Mike."

He yawned loudly and closed his eyes, voice trailing into nothingness as he promptly fell asleep.

The office had finally went silent, just like Mike had wanted it. But strangely it felt lonely without the boy rambling on about unimportant things to scare the silence away. Mike sighed, just now realising that he had liked the boy's company. Oh well. At least he could continue his job now that everything was relatively safe.

 _Knock knock._

Someone was knocking on the window.

 _Knock knock._

Mike gulped and shined the light into the corridor. A nasty chill went through him as the dark shape of the chicken appeared. The chicken had no eyes in its sockets, and the dim overhead light glistened off the sharp teeth. The robot was oozing blood and mucus from its jaws like a rabid dog, the rasping moaning now louder than ever. It was looking dead on at Mike. Truly, it was a revolting sight.

Before Mike could do anything, the chicken-bot rammed into the window with all its might, causing everything to shake uncontrollably. Mike jumped in fright and looked around for a weapon while the robot continued to ram against the window. At the back of his office Mike found a stray crowbar. Thank goodness for that! He was armed now!

Though what could a crowbar do against these murderous animatronics? At least it was better than going head-to-head with them with nothing at all.

But the chicken had given up once it realised that the double-panned window was too strong for it, so instead it stood staring at Mike, dripping more of the disgusting stuff out of its mouth, eyes not leaving him.

So Mike turned off the light, and the welcomed darkness swallowed the robot whole, but Mike knew it was still there, waiting to tare him limb from limb.

At least the power would not run out now, and both doors could be closed against the threats.

But Mike wasn't sure about their guaranteed safety. Those robots were smart, going fully against their programming to attack another human person. Why would they target people? Was the uprising to Terminator coming to pass or were the animatronics haunted?

Mike didn't want to stick around to know the answer to all these questions, but he had to stay until six am. That was when it was safe to go. He looked towards the sleeping kid.

The nightguard didn't know what he would do with himself if Jeremy died at the hands of the animatronics on his watch. Even though he barely knew the boy, he felt responsible for him, one might say protective even. He had to hold back the robots so that he and the kid could live.

He had to give it his all.


	3. 2:30

Get the mask on for goodness sake! They were wandering in and wandering out, and it was making Jeremy incredibly uncomfortable.

The newer models, those plastic remakes of the old crew, were easier to fool for they already accepted the disguise-wearing nightguard as their own kind. The original four weren't too convinced.

What happened to them? They were all decaying, withered, electric wires and metal parts showing through their faded fur. However despite being forgotten, dismantled and deactivated, they still moved. They still walked through the corridors, knowing where the cameras were and where Jeremy was.

Did they recognise him? Jeremy hoped they did. He hated each and every one of them with all his heart and soul. They should know that he was back, facing them just as _he_ had done.

When the new Bonnie had wandered out of his office, Jeremy allowed himself to pull the mask back up. Wind up the music box, and flash the torchlight into the hallway. He could see Foxy standing there, waiting for a chance to strike.

"Remember me, old fox?" Jeremy huffed, shining the flashlight into the distant animatronic's eyes a couple more times until he was satisfied. "I promised I would be back, didn't I? Well here I am. I hope you're ready for round two."

But then a loud radio-gargling noise started to screech in his ears. Jeremy's hands darted to his ears as he looked up towards the sound's source, and felt the blood freeze in his veins.

Vixen, dubbed 'The Mangle' by the employees, was hanging from the ceiling, its animatronic eye staring right at him, shining the colour of amber. The tangle of wires and parts was loose on the ceiling. Its jaws were hanging wide open so Jeremy could see all the bolts that still loosely held it in place.

Jeremy stared at it in horror for a while, but after he realised that the Foxy remake had made no move to attack him, he forced himself to relax.

"So, come here often?" he said jokingly, knowing full well that he was staring death right in the face. But to his surprise his voice had not agitated the upside-down robot. Instead, the white and pink fox lowered itself to the ground, clattering down loudly on three legs as it stood to its full height. Granted it wasn't as big as the older models, but it was still more-or-less Jeremy's height.

Once again Jeremy froze, giving the robot the cue to pad up to him cautiously, mouth agape. Its teeth were poised, ready for the kill while the radio continued to gargle, only louder.

"That's not how you greet a friend," Jeremy suddenly scolded it, remembering that fear was his enemy. He was here for a goal, not to die. And this mangled fox wasn't going to stop him from achieving his goal.

The robot, however, shrunk back, like a child being told off by a parent. It mumbled something, the noise coming from the radio hanging limply from its chest. Instead it rested its loose head on Jeremy's desk, all the antagonism gone from its remaining single eye.

Something about it made Jeremy's heart soften. Perhaps these newer models too learned to think like their originals.

Then it occurred to him that the Mangle was just what its name implied. It was nothing but a mere mangle of parts. If it truly began to think and feel like the original four monsters, then would it begin to feel sorry for itself? Jeremy sure felt sorry for it.

There was a toolbox in the bottom desk drawer, perhaps he could use it and his degree in mechanics? He'd fixed more complicated things than animatronics for kids, after all.

"Do you want me to fix you?" asked Jeremy. He thought about how dumb he must sound to outsiders. He was talking with a murderous animatronic for goodness sake! He might've even agitated it, who knows?

But instead of growling and growing hostile like all the other animatronics have done before, the Mangle flopped on the ground, its head on its paws, eye shining in the dim overheard lights. Even the noises from its radio seemed to change to something somewhat more pleasant to hear. If this wasn't a sign of agreement Jeremy didn't know what was.

So Jeremy opened the lowest drawer, and sure enough there was the toolbox. _C'mon, you can do this_ , Jeremy snapped to himself. _Just like performing surgery on an animatronic._

"Are you sure you want me to fix you?" Jeremy asked again hesitantly, setting down the toolbox next to the poor fox. It lifted its weary head to dip it once. "And will you hurt me?" The Mangle shook its head. Jeremy exhaled a short breath and sat down next to it. "I'll tell you a story to take your mind off this." The nightguard hesitated for a moment. He sounded just like _him_...

"A long time ago in a kingdom far, far away there lived an old cottage-person..."

* * *

The power had still not gone down. Still 45%. No matter how much the animatronics knocked on the metal doors, they couldn't knock them down. Their annoyed screams echoed round the corridors every time the door would stay shut, clawing and scraping with long robot teeth against metal. The storm whirled around him, yet in the middle of the eye of the storm, sat Mike.

Alive and well, though deathly scared, and perfectly safe, so far.

He had watched the clock slowly, oh so slowly move its hands around, tick-tocking the time away. Mike didn't even bother to look at the cameras anymore- if an intruder came, the animatronics would surely take care of them. It was a morbid fate, but it was the intruder's fault for trying to break into a horrible pizza restaurant in the first place.

A few more moments passed, and eventually Mike started to look for ways to get his mind off the impending doom of the animatronics. Jeremy was asleep, and Mike suddenly missed his useless rambling and awoken company, but it wouldn't do any good to wake him up. Mike already told himself that he would wake the little boy up when six o'clock would come to pass, or in a worst-case scenario when the animatronics happened to break down the door.

Perhaps he could read those two newspaper clippings that were laying idly on the desk next to where he placed the crowbar. He would feel like an old man doing so, but at least it was some form of entertainment. Wasn't it?

So Mike picked up the first page from the top, leaning back in his spinning chair and held the newspaper up to the light.

 _LOCAL PIZZARIA THREATENED WITH SHUTDOWN OVER SANITISATION_

 _Local pizzaria, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has been threatened again with shutdown by the health department over reports of foul odour coming from the much-loved animal mascots. Police were contacted when parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouths of the mascots. One parent alikened them to 'reanimated carcasses'._

Huh. Figures. Mike always though those robots were disgusting. Especially the chicken- it was probably the worst one of the bunch. He recalled how about an hour ago the chicken had stared at him through the window, the disgusting froth at its metallic jaws. So Mike wasn't hallucinating; other people were freaked out over these cartoons too.

"They've spelled 'pizzeria' wrong," Mike muttered to himself as he picked up the other newspaper piece.

 _KIDS VANISH AT LOCAL PIZZARIA - BODIES NOT FOUND_

Huh? Mike shook his head and raised the paper up to the light. Had he read that correctly?

 _KIDS VANISH AT LOCAL PIZZARIA - BODIES NOT FOUND_

 _Five local children had been reportedly lured into a back room during the late hours of operation at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza on the night of June 26th. While video surveillance identified the man responsible and led to his capture the following morning, the children themselves were never found and are presumed dead. Police think that the suspect dressed as a company mascot to earn the children's trust._

Mike stared at the page blankly, not wanting to believe the thing he had just read. His boss had never, ever told him of this so-called 'Missing Children Incident', or anything for that matter. To Mike there was nothing more important than five children getting killed within the walls of a goddamn pizzeria! Add the death of Phone Guy, and... and...

Mike shoved the newspaper clippings aside, regretting that he'd ever picked them up at all. He hid his face in his hands. All these casualties, all these deaths. Why was Fazbear Entertainment still in business!? No wonder they placed 'not responsible for injury/dismemberment' on the work placement ads. Bunch of ignorant fools!

He and Jeremy couldn't share their fates. Mike wouldn't let them. He had to protect the kid. He had to protect himself.

But hang on. Five kids... Mike thought. There were four robots... but there was also a fifth. That golden-washed Freddy suit that he had seen in one of the rooms, he didn't quite remember in which exactly. It was slumped over, two tiny white pin-prick eyes staring right through the camera as if it knew Mike had been looking at it.

Would it be a stretch to say that the children's bodies had been stuffed into the animatronics?

Oh shoot... that would be why they were dripping that disgusting slime and smelling. Those children, they were rotting inside the machinery. And it would also explain why animatronics were hostile to not only Mike, but Phone Guy and all the other employees at Freddy Fazbear's. An employee had killed five kids, and now they were out for vengeance.

It was a theory, but Mike was positive on it.

He was being hunted by the missing children, not the animatronics.

Jeremy started to stir in his sleep, shifting Mike's attention back to him. The boy had squinted, curling up into a tighter ball against the world. He had started to breathe through the mouth, unrhythmic gasps escaping from him. He sounded like he was in pain. Or having a nightmare.

Mike wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. The kid was scared half to death when his favourite characters had turned into bloody killing-machines right before his eyes. Mike too had nightmares that haunted him at night. This job was a really bad influence, physically and mentally. No wonder people quit it on the third night, just as Phone Guy said.

Again, the memory of Phone Guy was painful to think of. Mike pressed his palm up to his face. This wasn't good at all.

Suddenly Jeremy gasped awake, tears beginning to pour out of his eyes as the gasping turned to sobs. He was terrified.

"Are you okay!?" Mike asked him, also startled. He kept his distance, still unsure of what he should do. "You had a nightmare, didn't you?"

In reply Jeremy curled into a tighter ball, sobbing into his knees. "Uh-huh," came a quiet answer.

Poor kid, Mike thought. Drat those animatronics. Who knew what monstrosities an imaginative kid's brain could come up with after such an event? Mike had thought that maybe his awful bedtime story had taken the boy's mind off the horrifying monsters than lurked outside, but apparently not.

"Don't worry," Mike told him, and himself. "It was just a nightmare, it wasn't real."

"They said it was real," Jeremy whispered, shaking his sobbing head. He sat up, still clutching his knees. "They said it was very real."

'They' could only mean the animatronics. It was just as Mike had suspected. The nightmares had gotten to him too.

"It's over now," Mike tried again. "The robots are outside, and they can't get us here. We're safe."

But Jeremy shook his head. "They... They said that they had been stuck as robots," he said eventually. "That they've been killed."

Mike nodded slowly with an opened mouth. So it was true. The animatronics were possessed. But that only caused the threat to grow.

"And... They said I was in danger too." Jeremy wiped his running nose against the back of his sleeve. "They said you were dangerous."

Mike blinked in surprise. "What?"

But Jeremy could no longer look Mike in the eye. He paused for a moment, hesitating whether he should tell Mike what they said. But he sobbed again and carried on speaking.

"There were five of them," he said, steadying his voice at last. "They were... I don't know what they were. I think they were kids, but they looked like animals. A fox... a chicken and a rabbit and two bears... I think." He shook his head wearily. "They said you were very dangerous, because you had done bad things in the past."

Mike's mouth flopped open like a fish's. "What?" But he was already putting the puzzle pieces together.

"They said you had hurt them. That you're the reason they're like this." Jeremy looked fearfully up at the nightguard. "What did you do to them?"

"Nothing!" Mike gasped. His fingers got tangled in his hair beneath his cap. This was unbelievable. "They mistook me for someone else! They must've mistook Phone Guy too! And all those other adults! Oh this is so bad! Very, very bad!" He bit his own tongue, remembering what the newspapers stated. "They've been killed a couple of years ago by someone who's in jail now. They think all nightguards are the same. They think I killed them!"

Suddenly Mike wanted to go back to the mentality that the robots just thought he was an empty endoskeleton. Possessed animatronics with lust for revenge was way, way worse! And the mere thought was enough to cause Mike to shake.

"I didn't do anything!" he began to ramble. "I'm just some nightguard, not a psycho-killer! I'm not! Never in a million years!"

He shook his head again, then straightened himself, forcefully calming down. "That's it. After this night I'm quitting this stinking job. I don't want to die."

His reaction though only caused Jeremy to panic. More shining tears began to leak out of his eyes, catching the dim light like many little diamonds. They splattered onto the floor, splish splash.

"It was just a dream!" Mike insisted, but the damage had already been done.

Jeremy began to wail. "I don't want to die! They're gonna kill us! They're gonna kill us both!"

Mike bit his lip. He sat forward, staring the child right into his big blue eyes. "Do you believe that I'm a murderer?" he asked softly.

Jeremy shook his head. "Nuh-Uh."

"They you have to believe that we'll make it through the night," Mike said. "Both of us. We're safe in here. They can't make animatronics walk when their free-roaming mode turns off. We will survive whatever those metal-boxes throw at us."

Strangely Jeremy calmed down when Mike said those words. He snuffled a little, but then threw himself into Mike, wrapping his tiny arms around him tightly. Mike froze as the little child pressed his face into Mike's chest.

"I'm glad you didn't let me see Foxy, Mike," Jeremy mumbled, his voice was slightly muffled by the blue uniform. "I'm glad you're here with me."

"Kid, let me go. You're making me incredibly uncomfortable," Mike stammered, not trusting himself to move even a muscle.

"Sorry Mike," Jeremy apologised and backed away back onto the desk. "How long have I been asleep?"

Mike shrugged. "A little less than an hour."

Jeremy seemed slightly disappointed. Like Mike, he had hoped the end of the shift was nearer. Reality can be disappointing sometimes.


	4. 03:10

"And they all lived happily ever after," finished Jeremy, coincidentally just as he had finished re-assembling the endoskeleton to look more human instead an amalgamate on three legs. The Mangle was once again becoming Vixen, the plastic casing back in its proper place around the metal endoskeleton. That just left the little radio- but other than that the Mangle was no longer the Mangle.

The pretty fox's ears perked up when Jeremy finished speaking. It seemed to be truly into the story, listening to his words like a little child.

Jeremy smiled at it. "A nightguard told me that story!" he stated proudly, then remembered. His hands froze around the radio, his mind heading off into the distance. It was already the third day, and there was no sign of him.

The black-bear Phone Guy had said- " _he doesn't want to be found, but I assure you, he is here._ "

Didn't he recognise Jeremy? It was disappointing, but Jeremy tried to understand. It had been thirteen years, and he had changed a lot. He was no longer a little kid.

The gargle of Mangle's radio snapped Jeremy from his thoughts. Despite being completely plastic, the robot seemed concerned.

Strange- the other animatronics were emotionally dead, with forced smiles plastered upon their faces, yet this one seemed more alive than any of the others could ever be. It poked him gently in the face with a blunt plastic finger, and when it understood how gentle it needed to be with a frail human being, it trusted itself to place its entire palm to his cheek.

At first Jeremy didn't know how to react, but pressed his face against the animatronic's palm, letting it know that he appreciated the robot's attempt to comfort him.

"Do you know Mike Schmidt?" Jeremy asked it, looking deep into its glassy, clear eyes.

The Mangle shook its head sadly, taking its hand away. Again, it was concerned and saddened, already showing more emotion than any of the other robots. Its radio tried to make decipherable sounds, but all that came out was static.

Jeremy's shoulders sagged in disappointment, and he hung his head. "It's okay. I know he's here though. I can feel it." He pried open the casing of the broken radio, and peaked inside at the damaged circuits. It didn't look too bad- something right out of a electronics textbook. He could fix it, no problem.

"Okay Vixen, you're going to have to stay very, very still."

* * *

"The animatronics are like guard dogs, right?" Jeremy asked Mike. He waved his legs back and forth rapidly, hoping to get at least a little entertainment out of the simple action. "There's really not any use for you if this pizzeria has four bloodthirsty monsters guarding it."

"Eh," was Mike's answer. He had stared at the screen with his cheek propped up on his fist, lazily checking through the cameras as if they were tv channels infested with commercials. "But honestly I wonder why Freddy Fazbear's still in business. I mean, if I was ruthlessly murdered and stuck to haunt a crappy furry animatronic I'd want to get my revenge as soon as possible. But I'd actually get the correct guy and not target innocent people."

Jeremy gave a massive yawn. "Which one would you like to haunt if it was you? I'd like to be Foxy."

"Bonnie, I suppose. I just like the fact that he plays the guitar." Mike's hazel eyes flickered towards him. "Can you play any instruments kid?"

"Does the recorder count?"

"I think so."

"Well, then yeah."

Both of them jumped when something rammed into the eastern door again, screaming in annoyance that the door was staying down permanently and the prey safely on the other side. Whether it was Chica or Freddy, Mike didn't know and didn't care. It was difficult to ignore the frantic knocking on the door, however the nightguard and the child managed it eventually and began to scroll through the camera once again.

"Why do you come back here, night after night?" asked the boy eventually.

"I need money," Mike replied. "Welcome to the real world kid, sometimes you have to work a dangerous job in order to not end up on the streets."

"Why can't you live with your parents?"

Mike shivered and looked away. He didn't really like talking about it, but what had the kid done to earn his mistrust? "My parents are dead."

There was a short, awkward silence.

"Sorry," mumbled Jeremy.

Mike shrugged sadly. "It's okay, it happened a long time ago."

There was more silence. Minutes passed, and eventually Mike had enough.

"You wanna play ex's and oh's?" he proposed. A little light shined in Jeremy's eyes, and he nodded his head vigorously.

So Mike grabbed a stray piece of paper from his desk and a semi-working pen. He had to click it a couple of times to get it to work, and the grid was drawn. Mike let the boy go first, and he quickly put an 'x' in the centre square.

For the first few games there was nothing but ties. Mike even let the kid win a couple of times, before he took out the tricks he had up his sleeves.

"What! How did you do that?" exclaimed Jeremy when he saw that Mike had somehow won. All the nightguard did was raise and drop his shoulders with a small smile. The next game, Jeremy fell into the same trap, and it almost made him pull out his blonde hair in frustration. He had a difficult time deciding whether Mike was laughing at him or at the fact that he had so smugly won against him.

And when Mike reached his seventh win in a row, Jeremy huffed and shuffled away, folding his arms over his chest crossly.

The nightguard only raised an eyebrow. "Sore loser much?"

"How did you win!?" Jeremy demanded, not wanting to admit it or answer the stupid question. "That's im-pah-si-bull!"

"If a bloke like me can do it, it's not impossible," Mike argued calmly, only frustrating the boy more. He rolled his eyes with an amused sigh. "Do you want me to teach you?"

Instantly Jeremy's annoyance vanished and he scooted back to his original place.

"Okay," Mike started as he drew a fresh grid. "Here's a pretty simple trick." He drew an 'o' in the centre square. "You're hoping that the person will put their sign in one of these, right?" He pointed to the centre edges, and put down an 'x' just for demonstration. "You put your thingy in a corner-" he did so appropriately. "-and you're opponent will by like 'oh no! he's nearly won! I must block them!'"

The fact that he said it in a higher-pitched mock-girly voice made Jeremy giggle.

"So they try to block you here. Then you put your thing in this corner here." He put another 'o' in another corner. "Now you see here? You've got two ways you can win. Diagonally and in a straight line."

Jeremy looked as if he'd just been introduced to the meaning of life.

"Here, you try it."

It was a slow game this time, Jeremy furrowing his brow as he copied the pattern Mike had shown him, while his opponent purposely let himself be beaten. It was the happiest Mike had seen the boy since he wanted to see Foxy.

However after a couple of rematches, the game had gotten boring. So Mike dug up another stray piece of paper and let Jeremy doodle all over it while he went back to checking on the animatronics.

Anger was making their heads twitch, they were staring directly into the cameras and through to Mike's soul. Just their dead, glassy eyes were enough to bring back that disgusting feeling of dread.

A soft sound began to emerge from Jeremy, a string of unfamiliar notes with mumbled words here in there. Mike shifted his attention away from his tablet to give his companion a confused gaze.

"What're you singing?" he asked him curiously.

"Oh? It's just a song that my fifth sister made up," he explained happily. "I guess it sorta became my song since nobody else sings it."

How Jeremy managed to keep tabs on which of his fourteen sisters was which was a mystery, yet Mike tried to see past that. "Does it have any words?"

"Of course it does!" And Jeremy began to sing.

" _My love, my heart, my lobster, I risk each and every day. No matter how much I fall down, I will rise up again._

" _My soul, my joy, my spirit, I will hand it all to you. Though nights are dark and cold at heart, The sun will wake again._ "

Mike gave an applause. "Why 'lobster'?"

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. "My sister says that lobsters are a symbol of love because once they find a mate, they will never leave each other until one of them dies."

Mike never knew that, and he nodded his head with an opened mouth. What do you know? Even in a nightguard's office he was still finding out new things.

"It's a nice song," he complemented. "What's it called?"

"Dunno, she never gave it a name." Jeremy shrugged his shoulders again before he got back to drawing the strange seven-legged creature with three different heads. He started to mumble the song under his breath again, repeating the two verses it had over and over like a soundtrack stuck on repeat. The song was fast and fierce, like of those that the warriors sung before heading to battle. It was a catchy tune, and soon Mike found himself singing quietly along as he checked the cameras.

He caught Jeremy giving him an annoyingly smug and triumphant look. "What?" Mike justified himself. "It's growing on me."

"You can't sing!" he taunted, laughing. "You can't sing at all!"

"I can sing!" Mike argued, that internal need of proving himself not useless to this little kid sparking up again. "I sang in my school's choir!"

"Thank goodness you had other voices drown you out!" Jeremy laughed, slapping his knee as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You sound like a crow having a fit!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

Mike made a noise a like a sneezing cat, but then raised his voice and purposely sang as loudly as he could in his off-key voice.

"My love, my heart, my lobster! I risk each and every day! No matter how much I fall down, I will rise up again!"

Jeremy jumped in fright, and opened his mouth in wordless protest.

"MY SOUL, MY JOY, MY SPIRIT! I WILL HAND IT ALL TO YOU!" Mike shouted even louder. "THOUGH NIGHTS ARE DARK AND COLD AT HEART, THE SUN WILLL WAKE AGAIN!"

The little boy gave the adult a pathetic glare, but joined in singing with Mike. It was kinda ironic how Jeremy made fun of Mike's inability to sing, while his own prepubescent voice went to such high notes they almost shattered the windows.

They were round to their sixth time to singing the nameless song, when a loud bang on the leftmost door caused them both to shut up instantly. The shrieking of the animatronic was furious as it continued to throw itself against the metal door with all its might, however not managing to cause any significant damage.

"Go away!" Jeremy called, and all of a sudden the knocking stopped. Mike nervously checked on the cameras, and saw that Bonnie was standing there, mouth open so he could see into its robotic gullet. Was it just Mike, or did he see some tufts of curly ginger hair in the animatronic's throat?

"My love, my heart, my lobster...?" Jeremy tried, but his voice trailed away once he realised that Mike had not joined in. "Mike?"

"I think that the rabbit is trying to tell us something," Mike whispered. He could see the purple bunny mouthing something at them, just that he didn't know what. "Yep, he's trying to tell us something."

"Umm," Jeremy stalled. "I think he's saying the word 'we', I think."

Now that Mike looked, Jeremy was right. The robot was starting every sentence with the word 'we'. The security guard and the child narrowed their eyes at it, trying to decipher what it was mouthing. It didn't take Mike long to realise what it was saying.

 _We will have our vengeance._

 _We will have our vengeance._

Over and over it was said, until Mike put down the tablet and leaned back in his chair. "I know I can't make the villains out of the victims," he said, to nobody in particular. "But don't you think it's kinda ironic that they've lowered themselves to the murderer's level?"

"What does that mean?" Jeremy tilted his head to the side in question.

Mike rubbed his face in his hands. "Irony is like an event that is directly opposite to what you'd expect. Kinda like the victims stooping so low that they've become just as bad as their killer."

"You're getting all philosophical," the boy pointed out.

All Mike did was shrug animatedly. "That's nothing. Trust me, I've heard people turn into Greek philosophers when they've taken too many shots."

"But you aren't drunk, are you Mike?"

"I'm not allowed to drink on the job. And I'm not the talker-kind. One time when I got so drunk I, uh, slapped the hell out of my best friend on accident and-" he stopped talking when he realised he'd said too much. "Forget I ever said that."

But Jeremy had swatted his hand. "Nah, it's okay. I once drank a whole glass of beer thinking it was apple juice."

"You know a surprising amount of things hat someone your age should never know," Mike pointed out. He sat forward in his chair and got himself comfortable. "Are you sure you're a seven year old or an angsty teen stuck in a kid's body?"

"I'd say kinda both!" Jeremy pulled a wide smile, which then faded. "What's an angsty teen?"

The nightguard actually found himself liking this little kid, a lot actually. His company was nice and entertaining, and Mike only hoped the kid felt the same way. Perhaps they could remain in touch after this horrifying night? Mike sure wished they did.


	5. 4:08

"Hello Vixen," Jeremy greeted the Mangle once he'd come back to the nightguard's office the next day. To his surprise, the fox was sat elegantly on his wooden desk, its shiny tail neatly over its lap. The robot's ears perked up in happiness, glad that it saw Jeremy again. Despite what the nightguard had expected, Vixen had stayed in one piece throughout the day, and it was a nice surprise to be honest.

"Arr matey!" its beautifully female voice answered Jeremy, just like it would do if any of the daytime kids addressed it. It was rather deep for a girl-voice, rough like sandpaper yet sweet like honey. "Are ye ready to find the forgotten treasure!?"

It wasn't much of a conversation with the animatronic, since all its sentences were pre-recorded and only for performance uses, but it was comforting to know that it could make sound after all.

"So I guess you're keeping me company?" Jeremy smiled as he took his usual seat. He got another 'Arr matey' as his reply, and he smiled even wider. It was nice having a companion, and Jeremy was suddenly reminded of his task. He was here to complete his goal; to find him. So once again he was checking on the cameras, frantically looking through them for any signs of him. He especially kept tabs on the Bonnie animatronics, but he saw nothing out of the norm, and it was mildly infuriating.

"Stop playing games," Jeremy hissed under his breath, now genuinely convinced that he was just hiding to drive him mad, and possibly to get a little back at him for being an annoying little brat. But why wouldn't he show himself?

"A landlubber?" asked the fox, leaning over to peak at the cameras. Once again it looked concerned, seeing how on edge Jeremy was.

Jeremy shook his head, not even looking up at it. "No, no... It's _him_. He won't show himself." He sighed heavily, then raised his blue eyes to the furry android. "Did I really change that much?"

For an answer the former Mangle slid off its place on the desk and began to walk around as if it was told to. It was to prevent its joints locking up, and Jeremy didn't mind. One question buzzed about his head. Where was he?

A moment of silence hung around, but not for long. The Mangle once again tried a conversation. "Old landlubbers?" it asked suddenly, looking at the nightguard with wide, quizzical eyes. It took Jeremy a while to realise what it meant. Speaking with pre-recorded lines must be tedious and awfully inconvenient.

"Are you asking why I am afraid of the old cast?" he guessed, and to no surprise the fox nodded its head. It was a question Jeremy did not want to answer, but felt as though he should. What use were the months of therapy if he was never going to sleep soundly? He might as well tell Vixen, since it was here and willing to listen. It was weird talking to an AI, especially one that somehow gained the ability to feel. He breathed a sigh before answering. "Because I've seen them kill two people."

The robot halted in its tracks, the false-happy expression that was plastered on its face dropping into pure horror. The look in its eyes was impossible to read, but in ranged somewhere between disbelief, fear and betrayal. What had the older models been telling the new guys? Jeremy hesitated before he bowed his head to rewind the music box once again.

Suddenly a familiar high-pitched scream tore through the atmosphere. Jeremy jerked his head up, breath caught in his throat as he froze like a deer in headlights. He'd forgotten all about the other animatronics, and certainly about the older models.

The old Foxy leapt from the darkness, jaw dislocated so it could bite off more. Those cold robot eyes flared with the rage of the soul that it held trapped inside. There was no doors this time that could save Jeremy's neck. The shabby animatronic was going to murder him.

But the final blow never came. Instead, another roar tore through the air, much louder, much deeper and much more robotic than the older's child-like scream. There was a whoosh of wind from Jeremy's side, a blur of white and pink streaked past him.

There was a loud clang of metal as the no-longer-mangle crashed into the faded fox, tackling it to the ground with the force of a speeding truck. The ex-mangle had the advantage, starting to tare apart the malfunctioning robot, throwing steady punches with a closed fist to the other's long snout while pinning it down to the floor by the throat with the other hand. Foxy tried to retaliate with everything it had, but its usual tactic of biting proved to be ineffective against another metal creature. Its broken teeth bounced harmlessly off of Vixen's newly fixed exterior, and its old, rusted body refused to move as fast as the new fox did. And unlike Vixen's strong plastic covering, Foxy's fabric coat tore with satisfying rips between the former mangle's teeth.

The pink-and-white fox gave the pirate one final strike to its jaw, denting it horribly to the left, before releasing it, and Foxy darted back into the shadows, hissing and shrieking with rage.

A horrifying memory flashed before Jeremy's eyes.

* * *

"I've got something in my eye."

"Yeah, your fingers."

Jeremy huffed like an upset animal and took his hand away from his eye. "I've got something in my eye," he repeated a little harsher.

The nightguard only shrugged his shoulders. and leaded back in his chair. "Probably an eyelash. Try blinking quickly, and you'll cry it out."

So Jeremy started to rapidly blink his eyelids, and eventually got a little eyelash out of his eye. He sighed and rubbed his eye to ease of the discomfort. It had been some time since Jeremy had woken from the nightmare, and now it was a little past four am. Two more hours, and the animatronics would cease to be monsters. Mike was positive that they could survive, and why wouldn't they? The doors were safely down, the power was still 42% and it was the last night. It looked as if finally things were going for the better.

"What will happen to the missing children's spirits?" Jeremy suddenly asked, looking back at the window, where Chica's shadow cast into the room. "I mean, do they have to stay into those animatronic bodies? Why can't they just leave?"

Mike glared at him, but shrugged his shoulders. "Why don't you ask them? Maybe they don't know that their killer had life in prison, at least I hope that's life in prison." His mouth opened wide, and his tongue curled in a wide yawn. "If you ask me, we should perform an exorcism on this place."

"What's an exorcism?" Jeremy asked curiously.

Mike shrugged his shoulders again. "I think its what priests do to banish spirits from bodies, at least they did that in that movie."

"What's it called?"

"The Exorcist. You're far too young to watch it though," Mike told him. However after tonight, was a semi-scary movie too much for Jeremy? Best be safe and not recommend it. "It's a horror."

Jeremy opened his mouth and nodded, then closed his mouth again. "If I were to watch a horror, my mother would ground me for at least a month."

"Heck, my mother was never like that," said Mike with a flick of his hand as if trying to perform magic. "If I told her that I watched an 18+ horror movie, she would say; 'ha, that's great. Clean the floor.'" He made a slapping motion with his hand, all five fingers pointing downwards at the ground.

It set Jeremy off into laughter. His brow furrowed as he broke down into a pile of barely suppressed giggles, and not even the manly kind. Mike only snorted before he too began to laugh.

It didn't last long, however. The phone began to wail its well-known drrrriiing, over and over again. Mike fell deathly silent, staring wide-eyed at the device that was now threatening to explode if it wasn't answered. Should he answer it? It wasn't a pre-recorded message, since the little 8-bit green calculator-like screen flashed with 'incoming call', so maybe it was his boss? Or someone else? Mike tried his best not to look at the little kid as he pressed 'accept call'.

"Nightguard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, can you hear us?"

The unfamiliar string of voices was louder than could be possible over the phone, echoing and glitching uncontrollably, zigzagging up and down the pitch as if the voice synthesiser had gotten torn apart by child hands. It was definitely five different voices, all belonging to children around Jeremy's age. Yet they possessed something that Jeremy never did. That tone of relentless anger.

Mike's mouth went dry, and it took him some time to find his own voice. Perhaps he could come to an arrangement with these spirits, convince them that he was not who they mistook him as. He glanced at his companion, who stared shocked at the receiver, completely frozen from head to toe.

"Yes, I hear you," replied Mike in a slow whisper.

"What harm have you done to the child!?" demanded the voices. "We can't locate his spirit, so where did you hide it!?"

"He's sitting right beside me." Mike tried to be calm, fully aware that one wrong word could mean failure. He looked to Jeremy once more, pleading silently for him to confirm. Thankfully Jeremy understood Mike's desperate gaze.

"I'm here, alive and well," he stammered, but strengthened his voice to mask his own fear. A tiny glimmer of pride fluttered within Mike, and for a moment, he felt as if he'd known this boy for years instead of just a couple of hours. For that moment, Jeremy was his son.

"Liar!" shouted the missing children. "Lying liars! Nobody is safe next to a threat! The security guards are always the threat! They're a threat! A threatening threat!"

Their voices reached such high frequencies that Mike had to cover his ears with his hands. The noises got so loud and so high that it put all the 'ear-rape' videos on youtube to shame.

"I'm not a threat," Mike tried to explain. "I'm just an ordinary bloke trying to do my job at a failing pizza restaurant. I know you died an untimely death, but the person you're looking for is in jail and-"

"BE SILENT!" shrieked all five voices in unison, distorting and glitching like a broken record or a faulty animatronic voice box. The noise was so loud it blew Mike's eardrums out, and Jeremy screamed in fright, clutching closely onto Mike's nightguard hat, the one he had given him to fidget with just a few minutes ago.

"All security guards are in the wrong!" they shouted even louder. "Any child near a security guard isn't safe! You've done something horribly wrong to Fitzgerald!"

"No he hasn't!" Jeremy instantly stood in Mike's defence, wailing almost as loud as the voices on the other end of the phone. "Mike's my friend!"

The kid called him a friend. Mike couldn't help the small reassuring smile that raised the corners of his mouth. This was all it took for Mike to regain some of his lost hope.

"No security guard can be a child's friend! They must all be gotten rid of! Day guards and night guards alike! Now, look at the screen, would you be so kind?"

A flick glitched the camera, and suddenly the setting changed to the kitchen, the one camera that was 'audio only'. However this time, the black winked out, and a darkly coloured kitchen came into view. A sharp whimper escaped from Jeremy, while Mike froze all over.

All five robots were crowded in the kitchen, standing still and straight like agitated bloodhounds with the exception of the ghostly golden bear, who was slumped over in the corner yet eyes flaring as brightly as the other animals'. Their mouths were agape, their eyes blazing with hatred and fury, their fur flickering like static on a television screen. They each had their hands pointed to the same spot. And suddenly the upbeat and light-hearted atmosphere seemed miles and miles away.

There was a man on the floor, kneeling painfully on bloody knees as his hands were tied behind his back with animatronic wires. His raven black hair stuck to his face with blood and sweat, one of his eyes dark and swollen, the daytime security guard outfit was torn, ragged and darkened with black stains.

It all looked like a cult sacrifice, a horrifying scene which outdid any horror movie. Mike found himself staring at the unfamiliar man on the floor, wondering frantically how these animatronics had captured another person. Just who was he?

Very carefully the man looked up at the camera, as if the animatronics had some supernatural control over him, yet his big grey eyes were wide with terror. He opened his mouth, and Mike's blood turned to ice.

"Help... me..." rasped the man, voice frail and weak and very, very familiar. Mike recognised it instantly.

That was Phone Guy's voice.

"What have you done to him!?" Mike demanded hysterically. Every hair on his body had stood on end, and bile had began to creep up his throat as if he was going to throw up at any moment. He had no idea if the man could hear him, but he knew for a fact the animatronics did.

Each furry creature turned their head to look at the camera. "He's a security guard, like you. He deserves to die, like you."

"No! He hasn't done anything! He's innocent! I'm innocent! All those other security guards you've slaughtered, they were innocent too! You're becoming as bad as your killer!"

"Do not tell us how to think!" they screamed, the voices echoing from both the phone and the audio from the camera, however the animals didn't move their mouths when they spoke. "Words change nothing!"

Freddy Fazbear was the only robot that moved. It took unnaturally smooth steps towards the bound man on the floor, who looked up at him with the most scared gaze Mike had ever seen on anyone. The robot's unfeeling hand reached out and grabbed a tuft of black hair, pulling his head violently back. The Phone Guy whined like a hurt dog, but suppressed tears with all his might as to not give these spirits the satisfaction. He was still fighting even when his strength had worn out.

Mike was frantic, gripping the edges of the screen with locked fingers and tiny pupils. "What are you doing!? Let him go! He's innocent!" He was shouting now, flailing mentally out. The urge of opening the door and running to the kitchen to save the poor man's life was getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

"No security guard is innocent!" the single voice of a young boy shouted, presumably the spirit inside Freddy. The voice was so similar to Jeremy's that Mike's heart must've stopped for that moment. "Every one of you will share our fate!"

"No! Stop!" Mike shouted, but his pathetic yell accomplished nothing.

With a swift jerk of its wrist, the brown bear animatronic twisted Phone Guy's head sharply to the side, and a soft crack echoed round the kitchen. The man didn't even have time to widen his bloodshot eyes. Freddy released his fist, and let the man flop on the floor.

"NO!"

It was too late.

The picture on the screen winked out, and the familiar 'audio only' text lit up on a black screen.

"You're next, nightguard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," continued the voices through the phone, now in a deadly whisper which ran like poison through Mike's veins. "We will have our vengeance. We-"

A hand slammed down on the phone's 'end call' button, cutting off the venomous voices of the children- no... they couldn't be called children anymore. These... things, these... creatures, whatever they were. They were senseless. Murderous.

The sobbing occurred to Mike a few moments later, the child whimpers filling in the silence. When Mike turned round, the situation was worse than he expected. The little kid was ridden with wet cheeks, loudly bawling his frail heart out, completely broken.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Mike apologised quietly, both to the kid and to himself. That however did nothing to calm the hysterical child down. Instead Jeremy let out a terrified cry, and covered his face with his hands in a lame attempt to hold his tears back from escaping. The sparkling droplets just kept splattering to the floor, like rain. Without warning Jeremy flung himself at Mike, once again clutching onto him as if his life depended on it.

This time Mike didn't push him away or freeze, but instead wrapped his own arms around him softly. "Shh... calm down..." he tried his best at comforting the bawling child. His eyes darted to the clock. "Just a little less than an hour, we can do that wait."

The little boy just let out a muffled scream, panic completely overtaking him as he trembled. "They hurt him!" he wailed. "They killed him! They're going to do the same to us! They're gonna kill us!"

"They won't," Mike growled, a lot harsher than he'd intended to. "They won't get past the doors."

"But what about Phone Guy!?" Jeremy asked.

Mike bit his lip, then drew back his lips into a snarl. "That's it. I'm calling the police." He broke apart the hug and reached for the phone. That at least seemed to calm Jeremy down a little bit, which eased Mike off a little bit. Just a small bit.

His muscles felt stiff when he reached out for the handle of the phone, and he hesitated. Would the police really believe him? A story about a guy being chased through a pizza restaurant by haunted animatronics was less than believable.

"Tell them," said a sudden voice. That voice. Mike swung his head to the side, and gasped out a startled shout.

The shadow of a bear was standing there, two-dimensional against the wall. Mike's brain was way too distracted to properly freak out, he didn't even get the chance when the shadow spoke in Phone Guy's voice again.

"Uhh... just tell them that there's been a murder... that always works," it supposed. "You've got to make it through the night, and you should be perfectly fine! I'm counting on you."

Mike blinked, and the bear was gone.

"Mike?" Jeremy snuffled, confused and disoriented on what was happening.

"That shadow, didn't you see it?" Mike asked him, now properly convinced that this place was messing with his head. "It spoke, it..."

But Jeremy was shaking his head. "I didn't hear anything, or see anything. Can you call the police? Please?"

Mike rubbed his eye before reaching out for the phone again. Would it be a stretch to assume that, like the spirits of the missing children, hadn't received peace? Would it be a stretch to assume Phone Guy had taken the form of the one who killed him? And if Jeremy couldn't see him, could the spirits of the security guards only be seen by adults?

Abandoning all such questions, Mike tore the handle of the phone and pressed it to his ear, dialling 911 on the keypad. There was a beeping noise for a moment.

"Hello, 911, what's your emergency?"

Mike took a deep breath. "Hello, I'm the nightguard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. There's been a murder here."

"A murder?"

"Yes. The daytime security guard, I don't know his name. I just... found him like this. His neck had been snapped."

"Didn't you see who had done it?"

Mike hesitated for a split second. "No. But the problem is that they might still be here, and I've got a stowaway child here in the office with me. Please, come as quickly as possible."

"Which pizza restaurant are you at-" the operator's voice cut off suddenly.

"Connection terminated," the taunting voices of the missing children sang out of the speaker.

Mike let the phone slip from his fingers and crash to the floor. The plastic casing split apart and sprawled all over the floor.

"They've cut the telephone wire," Mike whispered to Jeremy before the boy could even ask what had happened. His whole being began to shake again, but then he went rigid. "Switch camera to backstage," he ordered.

Jeremy did exactly as he'd asked, changing the camera just like Mike had shown him how. He pressed himself closer to Mike as he did so, shaking against him.

There was only one animatronic in the backstage, among all the spare parts. The torn fox's eyes were still blazing with the the thrill, a disgusting fountain of froth pouring from its jaws. It knelt beside a hatchet in the wall, the metal door bent at an awful angle and revealing the electrical contents to the open world.

"That's the power module!" exclaimed Mike, but there was nothing they could do. Foxy reached into the hole, and tore out the colourful cables which sparked and writhed like wild snakes. The hook tore through the cables, and in that instant the screen turned to black, the lights went out. Jeremy screamed in fright, shadow falling over them like a curse.

The doors opened.


	6. 05:15

Night five. The same night when... Jeremy pulled his right sleeve up past his elbow, revealing the circular scar on his forearm, encircling round like a white tattooed bangle. For a moment he stared at it, running a finger over the ring left from the metal- before huffing and drawing the cloth over his arm again. He had survived until now, but without success in his task. What could he do to make him recognise Jeremy? It seemed impossible.

The vents started to clutter, and Jeremy jerked his head up. Something was in there. He got up to press the button. The light flickered over the opening, and his anxious heartbeat slowed down for a moment.

"Oh, it's just you," he greeted the pink-and-white fox that looked at him with gleaming amber eyes. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry 'bout dat matey," replied it, clambering out of the vent before shaking itself like a dog. "Are ye ready to find the forgotten treasure?"

Though Jeremy shook his head with a sigh and padded back to his desk. Everything seemed... lost. He was out of ideas, hadn't he tried everything? What could he still do?

"Are ye alright matey?" Vixen asked curiously, plonking its butt down to sit on his desk. It lowered its head to stare Jeremy directly in the eyes, the eyes gleaming with worry.

"I..." Jeremy hesitated, then patted the fox gently on the head. "I don't know what to do Vixen, I'm out of ideas, I can't think of anything new I-"

"Landlubber?" it asked again, returning the gesture. Its touch was soft - it understood how gentle it needed to be.

Jeremy sighed deeply. "Yeah, it's about him. I dunno Vixen, maybe he's left this place and now I can't find him." Though Jeremy knew that wasn't true.

 _He doesn't want to be found, but I assure you, he is here._

For a moment the fox was silent. "Who ye lost lad?" The animatronic eventually found the right dialogue option.

Jeremy let his shoulders drop with despair. "The former nightguard," he replied, looking away. "Mike Schmidt."

There was footsteps in the hallway, and Jeremy instinctively flashed the torch into the abyss. His heart leapt when he saw all four old models standing there, staring, angry, just like they were all those years ago.

Another memory flashed before Jeremy's eyes. His hand darted to his forehead, before he realised he was hyperventilating.

"Are ye alright matey?" the Mangle repeated its question. This time it sounded different. A different, more careful tone than the empty one it used with the kids. But Jeremy decided not to pay it much attention. What importance could it possibly hold?

He put his head on the desk again. "What if they've destroyed his spirit? Or trapped him inside an object and I'll never find him. I... I don't know what to do."

There was shuffling, and Jeremy felt the fox move. It slid off its place at the desk, and knelt beside him. "Everythin' will be alright lad, everythin' at sea be alright." Its hand gently held Jeremy's face and pulled it up so he would look it in the eyes. "Who ye lost?"

The edges of Jeremy's eyes began to sting, and he couldn't help but hiccup a breath. Next thing he knew there were two streaming tear tracks on his cheeks, and he was sobbing. He tried to stop, but the tears just kept coming. Jeremy broke down into Mangle's hands.

"Laddie, calm yerself doon," Mangle kept repeating. "Laddie, calm yerself doon." Every time it said that phrase, its voice changed. It wasn't like a robot repeating the same thing again and again, but somehow the voice melted into... humanity. "Laddie, calm yerself doon. Can ye tell me what yer so rallied up about?" It stroked Jeremy's cheek gently, wiping away the warm tears.

Jeremy took a few rapid breaths, and began to tell it everything.

* * *

It happened so quickly. The power module had been destroyed. Darkness had swept the entire building like a cloak that could never be lifted. Though it was not completely dark. Jeremy could see the dark grey outline of the desk, of the chair and the many things stacked on there. There was a faint red glow from the lightbulb above, where the wire was still fighting to feed off what little power was still left. It made shadows dance across Mike's young, nerve-wracked face, his green eyes almost glowing. They were too green, and made Jeremy think of the colour of antifreeze or toothpaste.

"To the back of the room," Mike snapped quietly, lifting Jeremy off his knees and onto the floor. "Press your back to the wall."

Jeremy asked no questions. His breath became faster, and he ran to the back of the room, scrambling to press his back against the wall, his heart pounding. His knees felt weak, yet he still stood shaking.

Mike had reached for something on the desk. From where Jeremy was, he could see that the thing was long and crooked, shining in the dim scarlet light. Mike held it with both hands, legs rooted to the ground, slightly apart, battle-ready.

Then the song started to play. A music box, so distant, yet so close. Jeremy recognised the tune instantly, it was one of his second eldest sister's favourites. 'Toreador Carmen Overture'. It was strange, flawed with sweet-sour notes, an aural equivalent of honey and lemon juice.

Then Jeremy saw it. The glowing white face of Freddy Fazbear, flickering like a faulty lightbulb, its dead eyes fixed on him. Or rather, the nightguard.

"Jeremy," Mike said again. "Whatever happens, you have to promise me not to move."

"Not to move?" Jeremy echoed quietly. "Mike I-"

"Pretend to be dead if they notice you," Mike snapped, looking back over his shoulder at him. He looked determined, the white-red light bouncing off his exposed teeth and eyes. "Don't move a muscle, promise me that."

"I- I promise."

The music stopped, leaving behind only silence. The left corridor went completely black, charred darkness cutting off all sight into the building.

And then, a scream, so loud it busted Jeremy's eardrums. It was familiar by this point, but it still came as a shock to him. He shouted in fear, pressing his hands to his ears to drown out some of the awful noise. There was a flash of white, and Mike's voice rose from the darkness.

"Come at me you undead freakshow!" the deep voice rang out angrily, followed shortly by a clang of metal. The red light of the dying lightbulb outlined the two figures. The chicken was larger than Mike, drooling a fountain of bloody froth from its jaws, every tooth outlined. It screamed and shrieked, and there was wispy white smoke leaking from the eyes. For a moment it was like time had paused, the man and the vengeful spirit frozen in battle. Though not for long. Mike swung the crowbar like a baseball bat with all his strength, and it caught the animatronic in the side of the face. The jaw broke in two, splitting apart the lower and upper beak. It didn't have time to rebalance, Mike was faster. The crowbar cut through the chicken's forearms, and the arms clattered down to the ground. It shrieked and fell back into the darkness where it crawled out of.

But Mike was still on his toes. He looked twice as big in the dim scarlet light, his shoulders heaving up and down steadily with every panting breath. He swung his weapon round the axis, which struck the leaping fox in the side of the head, sending it back into the corridor.

"We know who our friends are!" the children raised their voices, coming from every direction, yet from nowhere at the same time. "And you're not one of them!"

Mike did not answer them. His breathing was very audible. Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale... Steady like clockwork. He moved so smoothly, waiting.

Then, silence. As if the whole building had been muted. Jeremy could hardly hear his own rapid breaths, or anything else. The world he knew did not exist anymore.

Just when Jeremy was about to ask if it was all over, he felt himself be plucked from the ground and lifted into the air by two heatless paws, his eardrums blown out by a low-pitched alien roaring sound. The Freddy animatronic was biting at the air in front of the boy's face, like a muppet, but instead of making him laugh, it made Jeremy want to curl up and cry.

He screamed in terror, forced to look the horrifying creature in the eyes. It was going to eat him; bite his head off!

But suddenly the possessed creature dropped Jeremy onto the hard floor, causing pain to sear up his tailbone as he landed on his butt. He scrambled back to the back of the room as quickly as his little limbs could carry him, each clang of metal making his head split open.

"I am not your killer!" Mike was saying over and over again. He was taking deeper breaths now, exhausted with the effort.

But the animatronics weren't listening. There was two of them now, coming from the left and right, nobody cared which ones they were. Mike stood no chance.

Jeremy could see that. There was no chance Mike could handle two beasts on his own. But what could he do? He grit his teeth and stood to shaking feet. If he was going to meet his end at the hands of these... things, then he'd go down fighting. That's what all the great heroes did, didn't they?

It took a great deal of self-convincing before Jeremy's joints began to move. He flung himself at one of the animatronics, however he was too light to knock it off-balance or do any damage. So he clung to the leg, and when that proved useless he went against the pizzeria's number one rule for customers- don't climb on animatronics. It was moving, and it bucked like a wild horse at a rodeo, but Jeremy held on fast onto its head- though it was like trying to hold a bar of hot iron. His little hands clawed desperately at the fuzzy monster's face, causing it to stumble away from Mike. It screamed and shrieked, shaking back and forth on its feet, its loud teeth chattering.

"Why are you with our killer!?" the ghost's voice shouted in Jeremy's head, communicating telepathically- child to child. "You should be on our side!"

"You killed Phone Guy!" he wailed out loud, two streaming tear tracks running down his face as he remembered the awful snapping sound of Phone Guy's neck. "And you'll kill Mike too!"

The monster suddenly stopped dead still. It took Jeremy a few seconds to register the sharp metal claws around his right forearm and the disfigured grin on its face.

"You're not wrong."

The unstable head was whipped out from underneath him, or he was whipped off the unstable head, he couldn't tell. His arm was violently ripped out of its socket, and Jeremy yowled out upon collision. The hit was hard, pain searing through him where he had collided with the place joining the wall with the floor. He tasted blood, and his arm burned where the animatronic had gripped him. Through watering eyes he saw that the clawed robot hand had tore away at his skin and through his muscle, exposing bone in some places.

"Jeremy?"

The little boy was faintly aware of Mike's voice calling out to him, and he raised his head to look the nightguard in the eyes. Even past his tears he could see Mike kneeling by him, taking the few seconds the animatronics drew back to check on him.

"I told you not to move!" he growled. "Why can't you do as you're told?"

"I- MIKE!"

It was too late. The blow had caught the man in the side, propelling him all the way across the tiny room, landing roughly on his side. In his place stood the massive star-of-the-show. Freddy Fazbear himself, looking down emotionlessly at Jeremy.

"We see you've already been tainted by the security guards, you're like them. You'll grow up to be one of them. You must join their fate!"

A massive fake-furred hand was placed on his shoulder, and Jeremy could only look at the robot as it dislocated its jaws with a loud crack and opened to show its horrifying metal gullet. Somebody was already in there, open-eyed and dead and half-rotted away. Jeremy couldn't run. He was on his knees, powerless to anything.

Seven. Seven years was all he has managed to live.

The bear's jaws fastened around his head, its teeth puncturing the skin under his blond hair that stuck to his face in sweat and blood. Jeremy didn't even scream, but more tears dripped down his face when he realised he could no longer move. The jaws were still applying more pressure, slowly crushing his skull.

And suddenly it was gone, allowing Jeremy to crumble to the cold ground. For a moment he though he had died, but his numb brain reminded him that if he really were dead, he wouldn't be able to feel the pain in his body. It was difficult to keep his head up, so he just laid it to rest on the ground, his eyes open around diluted pupils and watched helpless.

"You bloodthirsty bastard!" Mike was shouting, back up onto his feet as if he'd never been knocked down at all. He was swinging his weapon over his head, the dim light of the animatronic's eyes glistening off the crowbar over its head. Each time the bent piece of metal hit the animatronic's retreating face, a loud clang shattered the awful silence. It tried to scream at him, but Mike's fury made him stronger. The bear fell to the ground, screaming in rage, but that didn't stop the hits from coming. "How dare you attack Jeremy!? Don't you ever get back up!"

A purple hand swiped from the darkness, and grabbed Mike's wrist, preventing him taking another swing at the bear. It squeezed, cutting off the blood supply and causing Mike to drop his weapon to the ground in a clatter. The nightguard didn't have time to react, the purple hand had twisted Mike's arm behind his back, making him stumble and flail in panic.

Another purple hand shot out, grabbing a tuft of Mike's long brown hair firmly and pulled his head violently back, just like Phone Guy's.

Jeremy must've been calling out his name, but he couldn't hear anything. He couldn't do anything about anything. All he could do was watch and scream.

Mike had his back bent backwards into a neat arch, held in place by the purple hands from the shadows. There was nothing Mike could do but flail with his free hand while his unnaturally green eyes burned. The Bonnie animatronic stood at his side, holding him firmly, glaring into his face with leaking white eyes.

It was sudden, but Jeremy could see it all as if it were showed to him in slow motion. The animatronic's jaws had clasped around Mike's exposed throat, dripping thick black blood as his eyes widened.

"MIKE! NO!"

Then the robot went rigid, the white lights in its eyes dying down to smouldering cinders and it released its jaws and grip, letting Mike fall to the floor. The distant grandfather clock started to chime in the distance, six times in total.

Six am. And everything went quiet.

Jeremy forgot all about the frozen-in-battle animatronics around them, not given the chance to retract their teeth and claws and murderous glares to look friendly again. Jeremy forgot about the darkness around and the poisonous silence that had swept over the entire pizzeria. Jeremy forgot all about his own pain as he got up with newfound strength in his little legs to run over to the fallen man, coughing and rasping for air past his torn throat.

"Mike! Mike!" Jeremy was shouting, hoping to draw Mike's attention to him the best he knew. In an instant he was by his side, trying his best to focus on his face instead of the dark clotted liquid around his neck. "Mike! MIKE!"

The nightguard winced and opened his eyes once more, before he smiled at Jeremy, releasing a thin line of blood that trailed down his chin. His hand lifted, and it curled into a point. His finger gently pressed to the tip of Jeremy's nose. "Hey there Jeremy," he rasped in a single breath, and didn't inhale again.

Those unnatural green eyes of his locked onto his face, glassy and sightless, and his hand dropped to the ground.

"Mike?" Jeremy's chest tightened when Mike didn't reply. "Dad?"

His fingers gently closed Mike's eyelids one final time, before he broke down into a child lament, his head rested on Mike's stationary chest. He held the blue nightguard uniform in two tightly bundled fists, and he took deep breaths to scream as loudly as his voice would allow him.

How much time was passing, he did not know, and he did not care. He didn't stop his wailing when he heard noises down the corridor, or when he heard grown-up voices mumble incoherent sentences to each other. It was all a blur, but Jeremy would never leave Mike's side. Never.

"Hey," a small voice above him. At first Jeremy paid it no attention, but after the third time he gradually came to snuffling to look at the man kneeling next to him. He was unfamiliar and much older than Mike, and wore a distinctive uniform with the word 'Police' writing over the jacket. "Hey, can you hear me?"

When Jeremy lifted his head, it felt heavy like lead. His eyelids stuck together with tears and ichor, but he managed to pull them apart to look the policeman in the face.

"What's your name?"

"J-Jeremy Fitzgerald..."

"Jeremy huh? Can you stand up?"

Jeremy shook his head. "I don't want to. Mike... Mike..."

The policeman sighed loudly. "You'll tell us everything when you're over your shock. There's an ambulance here for you."

Everything was a blur, but Jeremy was soon walking through the well-known pizzeria corridor, only half-aware of his surroundings. There were policemen everywhere, their voices melting together in indecipherable sentences. They must've tracked down where Mike made the call from... and...

Jeremy blinked at the dawnlight as he finally left the building, his eyes searing with burning pain. He looked back inside, and froze when he noticed the golden bear, slumped over itself and leaning against the wall. Jeremy looked into its cold dead eyes, into the tiny white pinpricks watching him.

" _Their souls are bound to us now; they're ours, not yours. What are you going to do about it?_ "

Even though he felt exhausted and completely burned out, Jeremy still managed to explode with rage. He attempted to run at the golden bear, hissing and shrieking with fury, and he would've succeeded if he wasn't caught by the policeman.

"Calm down kid, you'll only get yourself more hurt than you already are." The policeman held him back with a single arm, grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him from running back into the building.

"Let me go! Mike's still in there!"

But nobody wanted to listen, and the child was marched away from the terrifying pizzeria. Jeremy wanted to fight, but he couldn't anymore. He was exhausted, and he was almost glad to lay down on the bed inside the ambulance.

He was unconscious before the ambulance doors closed.


	7. 05:50

Jeremy's throat felt so dry when he finished speaking. He took a deep breath and let his eye drop from Vixen's face and to the little screen, winding up the music box. Finally everything was off his chest, even though he'd already told the story many times before... to his fourteen sisters, his parents, the police- though none actually believed him. Who would believe him about haunting animatronics?

At least Vixen believed him, or at least Jeremy hoped so.

"Are ye alright matey?" asked the animatronic, sitting back on the desk. It even put one leg over the other, its head slightly tilted like a confused dog's.

Jeremy gave a huge, audible sigh. "I'm fine, Vixen, seriously. It's nothing."

To his surprise the Mangle flattened its ears and bore its hard, plastic teeth. "No it's not nothing, and you're not going to pretend it is." It gave a low, animal-like growl. "As far as you're here I'm not leaving your side. That old fox already made an attempt on your life, and if any more of them do I will tare them apart."

Jeremy's head shot up in surprise. That was definitely not a pre-recorded message, too precise... too complex. His mouth fell open. "I thought you only spoke with pre-recorded lines?"

Once again Mangle's expression brightened. "I think you changed something in my voicebox code, accidentally I think. But now I'm not stuck with the same phrases over and over again." It wagged its plastic tail in pride.

Jeremy smiled at it warmly, and took its hand in his. "I'm glad you're here Vixen."

For a couple of hours Jeremy searched the cameras for any peculiarity aside from the walking robots, while the massive pink-and-white fox loomed over him like a guardian angel, sitting stiffly on the desk like a huge plastic gargoyle, growling threateningly whenever another robot got close.

It was so calming now, that Jeremy didn't realise the song he was mumbling under his breath. That was until Vixen pointed it out.

"Oh, it's an old song my sister made up," Jeremy explained helpfully. "She doesn't sing it anymore but it's been stuck in my head for years so I guess it's my song now."

"Song?" Vixen asked curiously. "Like those Bonnie, Freddy and Chica sing?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Better. You want to learn it?"

The huge furry android memorised the lyrics perfectly the first time Jeremy properly sung the song, but it took some time in adjusting its autotune to fit Jeremy's notes. It kept singing it in a minor key while the song was fast and fierce and in major, the happy key. But Jeremy found that the strangely somber cover by the Mangle was quite fitting, so he too shifted into the odd, sadder key. This was the mood in these pizzeria corridors now.

But eventually the two fell silent, resuming their tasks in silence for a good, long while before-

 _My love, my heart, my lobster, I risk each and every day, no matter how much I fall down, I will rise up again..._

Jeremy looked up at Vixen, but the fox looked equally as confused. It couldn't've been Vixen anyway- the voice singing from the depths of the darkness was slightly off-key and slightly resembled a plate being scratched with a fork, just a ghastly whisper.

 _My soul, my joy, my spirit, I will hand it all to you, though nights are dark and cold at heart the sun will wake again..._

A few seconds of stunned silence hung in aftermath, before the awful voice picked up again, in an odd, haunted note. Jeremy recognised it instantly, and he put down the screen and slowly rose to his feet.

 _My love, my heart, my lobster, I risk each and every day, no matter much I fall down, I will rise up again..._

The voice was getting closer now, as if its owner was standing just underneath the blanket of darkness, waiting ominously for something.

"My soul, my joy, my spirit, I will hand it all to you," Jeremy's voice sounded weak and frail compared to the older's, and it cracked slightly under the pressure as if he was a pubescent boy again. "Though nights are dark and cold at heart the sun will wake again."

And pause before the two voices picked up the song again. In sink with each and every syllable, knowing every single note.

They must've sang the nameless lobster song at least six times before a strange creature walked out of the shadows. It was like Phone Guy- a tall beast blacker than a starless night, tough like a brick yet somehow flowing like cobwebs in the breeze. Two long ears emerged from the creature's head, one flopped over itself. The white eyes settled on Jeremy, and the little fangs stretched into a smile.

"Hey there Jeremy," said the black rabbit. "I didn't recognise you; it's been a couple of years."

Before Jeremy could answer, the lithe fox pounced onto the floor like a panther, growling a threat at the newcomer, ready to protect Jeremy shall the shadowy animatronic move to attack.

"Calm down Mangle, I know him longer than you do," the rabbit snapped, though his tone was not unfriendly. His folded ear flicked, and he gave the fox a reassuring dip of the head. Through Vixen hid her teeth and stopped her growling, she remained in battle-position with one fist curled against the floor.

"Jesus, what have they done to you?" Jeremy said in disbelief and a slight shake of his head. "They've turned you into a furry."

The animatronic flattened its ears. "It's not like I had any choice kid. I can't exactly turn myself back." They sprung back up again. "And I thought I told you not to become a nightguard- you seriously can't do anything I tell you?"

Jeremy's feet started to walk on their own, more comfortable with this shadow of a memory than with anything else in this pizzeria. Even though this man he knew looked nothing like what he used to, and was nothing but a phantom- this was still Mike Schmidt. Still the same Mike that told him stories, taught him tricks in ex's and oh's and sang songs with him.

Jeremy crossed his arms and gave Mike a wide smile. "And I watched 'The Exorcist' with my little sisters, so I ignored that too!"

Even though Mike had no pupils in his all-white glowing eyes, Jeremy could sense the eye-roll. "You haven't changed a bit. You're still that annoying little kid that snuck into my office, wanting to see your old robots." Mike gave a stale laugh, his footsteps making no sound as he walked past Jeremy and Vixen to take his place in the spinning-chair behind Jeremy's desk. The cold swirled behind him as he walked, and it caused the hairs to stand on end as well as goosebumps to appear on Jeremy's forearms. "Why did you come back kid? I thought you'd stay away after what happened."

Jeremy couldn't tare his eyes away from the black rabbit. It was almost as if he was in some sort of trance he wasn't aware of entering- activated by hearing that familiar, hoarse voice again. "Why would I stay away? Those spirits have been inside my head ever since that night, telling me how they had you and that your were theirs and- I couldn't stay away."

Mike exhaled through his nose. "I can see that." He opened his mouth to yawn, showing off his many glowing animatronic teeth. "Take a seat will you kid? I'm not that scary-" he looked to Vixen. "Am I?"

The android pursed its plastic lips. "'Scary' isn't the word I would use," it replied dryly. "More like- 'unusual'."

"So what was it like, haunting a crappy pizza place for thirteen years?" Jeremy asked, this time sitting on the desk.

"Can't say it was any good, though I did have company." Mike shrugged his shoulders matter-of-factly. "Those kids in the suits killed a lot more than I first thought. Scott was the first of us haunters to go, thanks to you."

"Scott?"

"Phone Guy," Mike explained helpfully. "And now you're here! I'm properly getting deja vu here. And you've grown up a lot, annoying. How did you spend those thirteen years?"

Jeremy inhaled to begin telling Mike everything, when a distant music box began to play. His first instinct was a firm _nah_ , since his previous encounter with an ominous music box from a dark pizzeria corridor was far from pleasant- but both of Mike's bunny ears perked straight up at its sound.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he called back into the darkness, flicking his wrist matter-of-factly. "Is it okay if I bring a guest?"

The music abruptly stopped, leaving behind only silence before- "If you mussssst." The voice resembled a talking snake's, and was about as pleasant to listen to as a blackboard being scratched by nails.

"Woah, woah, who was that?" Jeremy shook his outstretched hands. "And what do you mean- bring a guest?"

Once more Mike turned his white eyes to him, and this time Jeremy felt a chill run down his spine. "Since you freed Scott, it gave them the idea to set themselves free now that their real killer is dead. They want a birthday party, and we're all invited."

"Who's 'they'?"

"The Missing Children."

Jeremy sighed, realising that this was his mission in the first place. He came to set Mike and the Phone Guy free, so this was a step forward in his task at least. If this was something he could be a part of, then sure as hell he was coming. But as he stood to his feet, he began to doubt. "And... if I come with you, will they kill me?"

Mike's hesitation was not a good sign- it made Jeremy shudder. But eventually the black rabbit spoke. "Not when I'm with you. Besides, with your little fox-friend, I'll doubt they'll get the chance."

Vixen growled to prove Mike's point.

Jeremy made up his mind. "Alright. Lead the way then. And if I die I'm going to kill you."

"You can't kill someone who's already dead," Mike pointed out, moving with such grace back to the shadows, almost as if he wasn't human anymore- oh wait, Mike wasn't a human anymore- that was the thing.

"Well?" Jeremy turned to his robot companion, offering his hand as if asking it to prom. "Are you coming?" Vixen gave a shy smile before gently fitting its own hand into Jeremy's outstretched one. They walked side-by-side, hand-in-hand into the darkness after Shadow Bonnie, leaving behind the safety of the office for good.

Mike was barely visible in the darkness, his glowing so brightly that they could be mistaken as two floating flashlights. He walked so smoothly, so silently that Jeremy half-expected him to melt into the wall and become a literal shadow.

The three were the last to arrive in the main party room, and to Jeremy's surprise he found it completely crowded. Balloons and 'Happy Birthday' decorations hung everywhere. A big table was set, and there were chairs precisely for everyone in the pizzeria. They sat down, and only a few chairs were left free.

Instantly Jeremy noticed two other shadows- a black fox and a black chicken- complete with purely white eyes and teeth just like Mike and Phone Guy's. The other nightguards... They nodded in acknowledgement at him. The new animatronics were also present, as well as...

...The original cast...

Instantly Jeremy felt fury flash through him at their sight, the horrifying memories flooding back all at once. "What are you looking at?" he snapped at them, letting his fury leak out a little. Why should he keep back? They deserved all the suffering they ever endured.

"Woah, calm down Jeremy," Mike placed an ice-cold hand onto Jeremy's shoulder.

"Yessssssss, tell the nightguard to calm hisssss nervesssssssssss."

Jeremy spun round, letting go of Vixen's hand. To his surprise he found himself staring at a terrifying creature, possibly the most non-kid friendly attraction Fazbear Entertainment could've come up with. The little gremlin was abnormally thin, as if the person that created it didn't want to waste too much material making it. Its face was shiny and plastic like the new animatronics, with a fake smile and dark featureless eyes. It was floating, so that it could invade into Jeremy's personal space and look directly into his eyes.

"Sssssssso, thisss issss the Jeremy Fritzgerald you told everyone about?" said the puppet. "He hasss grown up, hasssn't he?"

Mike gave an uneasy laugh. "Yeah, it's him. He's here to help, so get out of his face." Once again Vixen began to growl.

Why couldn't Jeremy say anything? Why didn't he swat at the bit of sown fabric, or do anything at all? He blinked as the puppet backed away, finally able to do so.

The puppet gestured towards the table with a long arm, ending in massive Freddy Kruger- like hands. Seriously, who thought this thing was for kids? "Why don't you all take a ssssseat?"

Disobeying this puppet creature seemed like a very bad idea, so the guard, the shadow and the animatronic sat down in the free chairs. And suddenly Jeremy was reminded of the birthday parties he and his fourteen sisters used to have when they were little.

Opposite him sat the withered fox, its robotic tongue poking through the frame of its upper jaw. Jeremy fought the reflex to throw up, before he realised that the red fox was just taunting him. _I still hate you the most_ \- Jeremy decided.

Mike sat down next to Jeremy, his nose twitching just like a real rabbit's, and Jeremy had to suppress the urge to point it out. "It's only fair that you're here," he whispered to his old friend. "I wanted to see you before we set ourselves free."

"Where's Scott?" the slumped-over Golden Freddy asked, or rather the child spirit inside did. "Shouldn't we wait for him?"

"Scott had already been set free," replied the Shadow Chica, glancing in Jeremy's direction. "He's waiting for us."

The original cast nodded their heads reluctantly, giving Jeremy dark glares in the process. Thankfully the puppet came to Jeremy's rescue.

"Ssssscott isss waiting," it announced. "Shall we?"

And seemingly from nowhere, a massive cake appeared in the middle of the table, the candles lit and casting shadows across every face, even the shadow animatronics looked brighter.

"Make a wish..."

The candles were blown out, and something clicked.

Those white pinpricks in the withered animatronics' eyes faded away instantly, and their deactivating bodies slumped over where they were sitting, heads lolling back into the tiny chairs or onto their chests.

The puppet, who was so small it had to stand on the chair, dropped to the seat of the chair like a pile of rags, also falling silent.

And the shadow animatronics... the black fox and black chicken melted away, just like the shadow bear had done a few nights before. Yet Mike still held strong, not allowing himself to leave.

"What are you waiting for man?" Jeremy asked. "Go."

Mike exhaled shortly through his nose. "Goodbye kid," he said, before tilting his head up and disappearing into nothingness forever.

* * *

"You've quit your job?"

Jeremy sighed deeply, not able to look his friend in the face. "Listen Vixen, I have other things to do other than monitor Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I only came here because I wanted to set Mike free."

The pink-and-white fox's posture sagged, its ears dropping in sadness. To say that it didn't take Jeremy's resignation lightly was an understatement. It had tried to talk him out of leaving his position as nightguard, but Jeremy had made up his mind. If it had tear-ducts, it would've definitely cried.

It pained Jeremy to do so, but he had to leave. He couldn't stay as a nightguard forever, he had his whole life ahead of him.

"I'm sorry Vixen, but I have to go. I'm really glad I've met you." The former Mangle smiled sadly. Granted he hadn't known it for long, but it was the same with Mike- he'd only truly known him one night, yet Jeremy had considered him one his best friends.

How ironic that both Mike and Vixen were direct reasons Jeremy was still alive. He owed them his life. At least now Mike's soul had been put to rest.

Jeremy approached the Mangle cautiously, before he embraced it in a hug. Its torso was hard and plastic and heatless, but somehow Jeremy was reminded of his eldest sister. Especially when the animatronic returned the favour.

"I will remember you Jeremy," it whimpered, gentle as always though it was clear it didn't ever want to let him go.

"And I'll remember you," Jeremy promised.

The grandfather clock had chimed, the robots had frozen, and Jeremy's shift had finished. He left the establishment, looking back over his shoulder one last time before leaving the horrors of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria behind him for good.

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

Oh my goodness! My first finished fanfiction! I honestly didn't think I'd finish this as quickly as I did.

I want to give out my thanks now, because when else will I get the chance?

First of all to Scott Cawthon, the wonderful creator of Five Nights at Freddy's. Without that guy this story wouldn't exist, as well as many of the wonderful fanworks besides this one, so I think he deserves a big thank you from all of us.

Secondly, to Thedyingjokepastaway, the guy who had supported me throughout the whole time I've been on this site. Thanks man, from the bottom of my very heart.

Thirdly, to Atsuko San8, preciouslittletoonette, A Guest, JustBeStill, Victor John Foxfire, ProngsPotter22, Robot Randy, Crystal364, Malchus-Fireheart and Honorchior for their reviews and feedback on this story. Thank you greatly for taking the time to point out things I need to improve on as well as encourage me throughout this whole story. It really means a lot to me that people like to read what I write.

And lastly but not least, to you reading this right now. It means a heck of a lot to me for you to make it to the very end of this horrifying abomination. You didn't have to find this story, or read it even, so perhaps the biggest thanks goes to you.

May the winds that blow in your sails be strong.

\- Phouka Dragon11 -


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